


Stony Oneshots

by mattydaddarios



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AAAAAA, Guys being gay, M/M, angst because yes, bros being guys, fluff because no, guys being bros, they're cute ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 24,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattydaddarios/pseuds/mattydaddarios
Summary: this is a book of stony one-shots where, in every chapter, the premise is based around one word or at least inspired by it.so far we've got love-struck steve, clueless tony, drunk tony, high school au, and cops 'n' robbers au. oh and overwhelming softness





	1. Bells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 001 | EDITED ✔

Tony Stark doesn't know why he bought these reindeer headbands with dangling bells near the antlers, but he had, and now he’s too lazy to return them.

Maybe it was because they were cute, or it reminded him of when his mother forced them on his head before taking pictures by the christmas tree. Maybe the nostalgia was just so beautifully numbing that he needed them to simply continue his everyday life from here on out. Or maybe . . . he just wanted them.

Tony places the bag holding the two reindeer headbands down on the kitchen counter beside Steve Rogers, the blondie who's making himself a coffee. Steve looks at the bag, then at the billionaire suspiciously. “What's in the bag?” He asks.

Tony sniffs, casually wiping his nose and looking away as he did so. “Reindeer headbands.” He answers, giving a shrug.

Steve looks at him funny, releasing his spoon and letting it swirl in the coffee mug as he peeks into the plastic bag. There are, indeed, two pairs of reindeer headbands. The ones with the bells near the ends of the antlers. Steve picks them out, inspecting them for only a second before snorting and looking at Tony again.

“You’re a billionaire, yet you buy something that doesn't even matter?” He huffs a laugh.

Tony shifts his weight to his left leg, putting a hand up in defense. “Hey, hey--you don't know if they matter or not. To me, anyway. I--they bring back good memories, I think. And they're also . . . cute.” Tony takes one of the headbands from Steve's calloused hands, inspecting it himself. He flicks at the bells.

Steve still has a confused smile on his face, but he nods anyway and plays with the bells himself.

After a moment of silent flicking and flacking, Steve finally says, “This is usually something you wear near Christmas, Tony. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do.” Tony put the headband he was previously holding down, leaning against the counter and resting his chin on his palm.

“Aaaand it's the start of May, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Tony nods quickly and casually, really dismissive with Steve's reminders. Steve is just fiddling with his own headband now. Honestly, Stark, what purpose does this even have? He thinks.

“Why'd you buy these?”

“I already told you. They remind me of good times, they're cute, and IIIIIIIII want . . . to wear them. Near Christmas time.”

“I thought you were an atheist.”

Tony grunts. “Hop off, Rogers.”

Steve smiles. “You really don't know why you bought these, do you?”

Tony stares at him, expression blank until he straightens his posture and shrugs again. Quick and casual. “Maybe, maybe not.”

Steve snorts once more, then leans forward and places a gentle peck on Tony's forehead. “Stark, you are chaotic.”

Tony takes the kiss, secretly grateful for it. He loves Steve's lips. He loves Steve in general. Steve = good guy, good role model. Steve = Tony's heart. Tony likes Steve as his heart.

“Yeah. I know.” He nods after Steve was upright again and tending to his temporarily forgotten coffee. He fiddles with the reindeer headband, flicking at the bells dangling near the ends of the antlers.


	2. Needy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 002 | EDITED ✔

Steve Rogers never thought of himself as the needy kind--never. He was always okay with his partner going out most of the time as long as it meant they got to cuddle together when it was time to sleep.

But unfortunately, Tony Stark hadn't turned up in bed for two weeks in a row.

Steve, again, wasn't the type of man to be needy for his boyfriend's attention. Never felt anything even remotely close to that clinginess _once_ during the entire time he's been dating genius-billionaire-philanthropist Tony Stark. But, with Tony out of his sights for more than he ever expected, Steve couldn't take the loneliness any longer.

He was tired to wake up without the man beside him, he was tired of not falling asleep to a dimly glowing arc reactor, he was tired of the tiredness he felt when Tony Stark didn't kiss his nose as a wake up call.

After the end of the second week with him not waking up beside Tony, Steve had had enough. He went down to the lab and opened the door (of course with a little knock to let Tony know he was there), walking over to his boyfriend and sitting in the spare chair in front of him.

Tony looked up from his armor's arm, a piece of bread hanging from his mouth. He quickly put his tools down and took the snack out from between his teeth after taking a bite and said, “Hey, baby. What's up?”

Steve didn't respond. He just stood up as casually as he sat down and opened his arms wide. Mind you, he was still in his sleeping clothes--an off white tee with black sweatpants--and his face held utter indifference.

Tony looked at him funny, blinking a couple times then looking around his lab just in case Steve was staring at something else.

He then turned back to the blond, confused. “Uhh?”

Steve, still unresponsive and blunt-looking, just gestured for Tony to come over to him (with his arms still outstretched). The brunette cleared his throat and walked over to him, an eyebrow raised. “Are you okay, Steve? What--what is this that you’rrrre . . . doing?”

Steve, again, didn't say anything. He simply wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him in for a hug, breathing in the scent of oil and citrus.

Tony allowed himself to be hugged, but said, “Steve, I'm dirty as hell. You're ruining your clothes.”

Steve’s arms momentarily left his boyfriend's neck to adjust Tony's around his waist before they returned to their comfortable spot.

Tony awkwardly kept his arms where they were put, and said again, “Steve. I am _dirty._ ”

Steve kissed down Tony's face silently, forehead to chin, purposely leaving his lips kissless. He missed Tony's face, and his hugs, and his little annoying comments when he's trying to be affectionate.

Finally, when Steve leveled eyes with Tony, he kissed his lips, chapped and bitten and yet still holding that perfection Steve had been missing. Tony didn't complain, he just avoided touching Steve as to not cover him in grease, but honestly the great Captain America couldn't care less.

When Steve pulled away, he smiled gently and took a step back from Tony, a few smudges of blackish-brown now present on his shirt. “Come on, try-hard, I'll make you some breakfast. And wash yourself up. You're dirty.”


	3. Fallacious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 003 | EDITED ✔  
> Fallacious: based on a mistaken belief.

Throughout his entire life, Tony Stark believed he was always right. He had knowledge about important _and_ unimportant things and, for the most part, he'd won many arguments about whatever the topic was at that time.

He believed he was righter than right about anything thanks to his bloated ego, and that also meant he believed he was right when he said nobody could love him simply because he was who he was.

His father never had the time to even speak a simple “hello” to him, it felt. Sometimes Tony wondered if Howard even had the time to witness him being birthed into the world. And as for his mother? She was affectionate and paid a lot more attention to Tony than anyone ever did in private school (she noticed him more than his teachers did, and he saw his mom as much as he saw his dad), but their interactions were still minimal. There was never really any family heart-to-heart between them, mostly he just confided in Maria as a very distant friend, only telling her the unimportant parts about his life like the things that annoyed him.

It never felt like they truly loved him, and so that just clicked into his day-to-day mind set. As if on default, he'd think nobody loved him. He never even truly believed Pepper had loved him when they were dating, even though she was there for him when the world went to hell. That was the cause to their break-up. Pepper was done with him and Tony believed she deserved better. No, Tony _knew_ she deserved better.

So when Captain America said “I love you” to Iron Man himself, Tony almost lost his breath. He had laughed long and hard, hiding the panic on his face. No, no, no, he had thought, this is a joke. Captain America could _not_ have fallen for him. Not after all their arguments and their empty threats. Not when Tony refused to listen and sacrificed himself for everything he believed deserved the saving. For everything he _knew_ deserved the saving.

He had tried to wipe it off, find proof that he could never be loved by Steven Grant Rogers. Find proof that he could never be loved by anyone. But as he searched the captain's face that night for even the slightest peep of sarcasm, he couldn't find it. If it was there, Cap hid it well. All Tony Stark could see was absolute genuineness. It was almost unfathomable. How could Cap mean this? Tony had almost thought of it as a crime.

Nobody could love him. Nobody would ever love him. Tony believed so. But as Captain America pulled him in for a kiss to show just how much he meant those three simple words, Iron Man realized just how wrong he was.


	4. Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 003 | EDITED ✔

Steve knew what he'd been searching for his whole life. He searched for the good path back in the 40s; he'd dreamt about starting a family; he wished for a blossoming relationship with his then love-of-his-life Peggy Carter.

But when he was woken up into the modern world, Steve had since forgotten what he was looking for. He remembered Peggy, remembered wanting something beautiful with her, but with those years now behind him, he knew he couldn't have those dreams come true any longer. It'd been way too long to even think so.

But when Steve Rogers became a part of the Avengers, finally, _finally_ Steve had found something to search for. Steve had searched for justice, for equality in this world. Thankfully, people have matured since the 40s. There was little racism, little discrimination, compared to back then. There were only those occasional extraterrestrial wars that he and his team needed to step in and help with, and they never stopped until they won.

But no matter the satisfaction he felt when a threat was dealt with, Steve's heart remained half empty. Steve still longed for a family; Steve still longed for someone to hold.

And when Tony Stark sacrificed himself for the whole world, Steve Rogers found something new to look forward to. He no longer had to search, no longer had to drag his feet through the rubble and find nothing.

He found Tony Stark, a jewel of a man, and he fell in love with him right there.

Steve asked Tony on a date. Tony said yes.

Steve asked Tony to be his boyfriend. Tony said yes.

Steve asked Tony to marry him. Tony said yes.

Steve sits here now, holding Tony’s hand. “I love you so much. Do you know that?” He asks, words soft and oozing with love. “Yes,” Tony replies, just as softly. "I love you too, Steven."

Steve smiles, then it falls into peaceful quiet.

Steve no longer had to search, no longer had to drag his feet through the rubble and find nothing.

He found Tony Rogers, a jewel of a man, and he’ll fall for him over and over and over again, until the end of time.


	5. Design

Tony was frustrated. He leaned back in his chair while he massaged his temples, giving his new mark a death glare. The design disgusted Tony. That, and the fact that when test-driving it, the stupid hunk of metal didn't execute its commands as efficiently as the genius had hoped. It would twirl when Tony tried standing still; it would respond slowly to Tony's actions like a lagging computer; whenever Tony tried to use his repulsor blasters, the suit would delay and then fire at something completely off from his intended target. Tony hated this thing, truly.

Being so tired and mopey over this suit, Tony didn't even  _ notice _ he was being so tired and mopey over this suit. All he could do was hate the damn thing the longer he stared at it.

When Tony was attempting to fix the poor suit for the umpteenth time, Steve had silently let himself into the lab, in casual-but-ready-to-go clothes. He had just come back after a short night out with Nat (to let himself loosen up a little, she said), and the second he was on the living quarters J.A.R.V.I.S informed him that his idiotic genius of a boyfriend wouldn't stop screaming over a project. And so, with Steve being a good guy and wanting to tease Tony because he is, in fact, a good guy, Stars ‘n’ Stripes went on to check on Metal Man.

Steve approached Tony in gentle steps, coming up behind him and greeting him with a little scare.

“BOO!” Steve shouted, clasping Tony's shoulders and holding him down. Tony yelled, ready to throw hands until he looked behind himself and saw Captain Blondie. He grunted and shrugged Steve's hands off of him as the older man cackled in the background. As charming as Steve's laughs were--despite their chaotic sound (like right now)--Tony wasn't in the mood to call him a bitch and laugh with him. He just went back to staring at his fucking armor. Piece of shit I'm going to blend you and throw you in the dumpster I swear to god--, he thought.

When Steve finally calmed, he wiped a tear from his eye and breathed until his face was no longer red. Now relaxed, he draped his arms over Tony's shoulders and rested his chin on the brunette's head. “Hi,” he smiled fondly.

Tony--still pissed about the scare--only  _ slightly _ (“slightly”) leaned into his boyfriend's chest, breathing in his very Steve-y scent.

“Jarvis told me you kept screaming about a project. I'm assuming it's this one?” Steve asked, kissing the top of Tony's head and sniffing his hair. It smelt of frustration and comedic despair. Typical Tony scent, minus the citrus.

“Yeah.” Tony sighed, now fully sinking into Steve (“slightly”). “This design is fucking killing me, man.” He shook his head and leaned away from Steve to instead rest his arms on the table he had the armor laid out on as if it were a gurnee. Steve nodded, moving to sit on the edge of the table so he could see Tony's pretty face fully. He crossed his arms and inspected the suit, letting Tony take his much needed breather.

The suit didn't look all that different from the majority of his collection. It was your standard Iron Man red and yellow, except there were more yellow touches than his classic suit. It didn't seem like much to Steve's inexperienced eye, but to Tony it probably took so much effort that he saw it as a complete masterpiece that he now hated because it was shitty as hell.

“UGH!” Tony suddenly grunt-shouted. “This thing fucking  _ sucks _ ! It's so fucking ugly like oh my  _ GOD _ !” The poor genius plopped his head down in his arms, groaning into the table.

Steve puckered his lips, then said, “I think it's pretty.”

Tony’s instincts were instant the second Steve finished his sentence. He picked his head up and looked at him with a ‘shut the fuck up’ plus ‘you confuse me so much’ face before saying, “Steve, stop being such a goody-two-shoes and just tell me it sucks.”

Steve got off the table and uncrossed his arms, instead stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “Well, I would, if the armor wasn't made by a Stark.”

Tony's bitch face became bitchier. “Baby, I appreciate your attempts to make me blush but you pretty much said you would call this piece of shit a piece of shit if it wasn't made a piece of shit Stark.”

“Hey,” Steve said in a warning tone, ignoring his own error, “don't call yourself a piece of shit. I meant the armor is gorgeous no matter what, regardless if it was made by you or not. You're frustrated, I see that, so take a break. Me and Nat brought home some leftover take-out. You should eat.”

Tony grunted and hesitantly stood, his thumbs fiddling with each other as Steve placed an arm around his waist and pulled him in for a side hug, walking together to the main room to eat those delicious leftovers.

Tony Stark can renew the suit’s design another day.


	6. Zipper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 006 | EDITED ✔  
> highschool au, featuring . . .  
> \- jock steve  
> \- edgy teen tony

Steve was scrolling through his phone while procrastinating on homework when Tony--his edgy ass boyfriend--burst inside his room with a tomato-red face, his favorite AC/DC jacket clenched tightly in his fist. "MY FUCKING ZIPPER BROKE!" He yelled, nearly causing Steve to go deaf.

After recovering from the upsetting shout, the blond got out of his seat and tugged Tony into his room, shutting his door quick before his mom could appear out of nowhere and lecture them about bad language. He sat Tony down on his bed then pinched his nasal bridge, sighing heavily as the brunette looked at his jacket with anger and sadness.

“Is this why you barged into my house without even a warning text?” The jock pulled his hand from his face, instead placing it on his hip.

“Yes, of course, why else would I be here if you weren't my repairman?” Tony fake-sniffed. Steve rolled his eyes. Steve loved this man a lot--of course he did, this man was his boyfriend--but my _god_ was he extra sometimes.

Steve popped his mouth and lazily walked back over to the door, placing his hand on the knob. With a little groan, he said, "I'll go get the sewing kit from mom's room."

When he retrieved the beaten-down box, he returned to the brunette and sat beside him on the edge of the bed, pulling the jacket from his hands. Tony let him take it easily, watching it slide from his grasp and lay in Steve's lap instead.

Steve inspected the broken zipper, stroking his nonexistent beard in thought. You might be asking, “Why the fuck is this idiot using a sewing kit to fix a zipper?” Well, you see, Steve isn't really the fixing type, and Tony knows this. Tony himself is the fixing type, but Stevie here is the artistic kind. Whenever Tony has a problem with anything, Steve just doodles with it and it’s actually successful at making Tony happy again. But this jacket, however, will be a challenge for Steve to make better. Tony cherished this thing like it was his favorite person in the world, and Steve knew he was a close second. So, to repair this, Steve had to be very precise on what image to sew into this jacket to make it all better.

When Steve got his idea, he chuckled and began working. He made sure to work slowly so he could build up suspense in Tony’s impatient eyes and to also make the shape nice and realistic. It had to be _perfect._

In the middle of his slow stitching, Tony rested his head on Steve's shoulder, giving it a tired smooch. He probably screamed about the broken zipper for a long time before coming over, so his eyes were droopy and his throat hurt.

“You know, old man,” Tony said quietly, placing his hand on Steve's forearm, “you aren't just my repairman. You know that, right?”

Steve nodded with a snort, not looking away from his stitching. “Yes, Tony, I know.”

“Like, you're actually someone I reeeeeeeeeally care about. You know that, right?”

“Thank you. Yes, I do.”

“And, like . . . " Tony paused, then a lopsided grin curled his lips and he fell back onto the mattress. “You're my _boyfriend_!”

“Yes, I am.”

“Can you believe that?” Tony laughed. “ _The_ Steve Rogers, captain of pretty much every sport in school, is _my_ boyfriend. Mine! Ha!”

From this point, Steve didn't reply. He simply smiled as he listened to Tony ramble, humming in response to some of the things he said. God, was he adorable.

“Like, what even am I compared to you in school standards? Emo? A loner? Geek? Nerd? That's really hilarious.” Tony sat back up, continuing to watch Steve stitch.

“You aren't any of those things to me, Tony.” Steve commented.

“Quit being a sap. I know that.” Tony shook his head, his grin growing then quickly fading. Steve huffed a laugh but said nothing more.

It went silent between them for a moment before Tony finally added, “Sometimes I wonder why you, the god of the school, chose me, a speck of dust--you know? Like . . . You asked me to homecoming so suddenly last year and now . . . Here we are. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it.”

Steve finally looked up from the jacket, glaring at Tony softly but seriously. “Tony, I've liked you ever since we met in eighth grade. You were very loud and seemed fun to be around, even though Mr. White was right about you being an ass.”

“Wait, he called me an ass?”

“Yeah. Remember when you barged in during fourth mod and started screaming? And then you were forced out by me? When I sat down again I heard him whisper about you being an ass.”

Tony chuckled. “God, I loved Mr. White.”

Steve rolled his eyes, holding his own smile in so he wouldn't break his serious facade.

“Anyway, back to the mush. You're a great person, Tony. A great friend, and an even greater boyfriend. I love you.”

Tony smiled, his face going red as quickly as an anime girl's. He leaned in and kissed Steve briefly, whispering an “I love you too,” against his lips before pulling away.

Steve’s face relaxed after the smooch, and he went back to stitching. It didn't take much longer until his slow-paced hands were finally done helping the needle and making his definite A-plus design. He lifted the jacket up all the way and showed Tony with a “Ta-dah!” and Tony really couldn't sigh any heavier than he just did.

What Steve stitched was the shape of a zipper. Right at the corner. Near the broken zipper.

“You know what?” Tony said, his eyes narrowing and a tight smile forming. “Steven Grant Rogers, you might just be the worst person I've ever met.”

Steve laughed, draping the jacket over Tony's slumped shoulders. “I took my time with this one, baby. Come on, give me credit.”

“Suck my dick, Steve.”


	7. Crib

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 007 | EDITED ✔

Tony was absolutely _ecstatic_. This was probably one of the best days of his entire _life_. He and Steve were going to adopt!!

After a year of marriage and no break from their superhero business to actually focus on their now connected private lives, Tony took the rare opportunity to ask about adopting a little munchkin of their own. It took some begging and whining, but Steve finally said yes (of course after lecturing Tony about how they’d have to balance their responsibilities now, those being their jobs, their relationship, and now a little rascal to look after) after some persuasion.

Tony was already set with items to buy for their new family member. He picked out toys, constructors to add an extra bedroom, and a crib. The crib was Tony's absolute favorite part.

The baby bed was blue and the bars could slide up and down so it'd be easy to pick out and keep in their plus one. Steve was surprised with how prepared Tony was, and was also surprised that he agreed with all the options. They purchased every item immediately after about a thirty-second discussion before each one, and weren't disappointed when they arrived at the doorstep in such short timing.

Tony set everything in the places he'd imagined they'd be, despite Steve's little comments here and there about how they should rearrange this or replace that.

It took all the energy out of the brunette, but he now had everything set and was ready to barge right into that adoption center and get his baby.

Tomorrow.

And when tomorrow came around, Tony was up and at it. Granola bars were his only breakfast and he practically _pulled_ his muscle-man husband out of bed so he could get his ass ready.

Steve was then (force) fed granola bars too, and then taken, by hand, out of their home and to the car.

Tony wasn't messing around when he started the vehicle. With a nearly-finished granola bar hanging from his mouth, the brunette was zooming to the adoption center, ready to get his baby and love on him forever.

When they arrived there, Tony didn't even _wait_ for Steve to get out of the car, because by then, he was already inside the shelter filling out paperwork.

When Steve caught up with him, Tony was already looking for which one to choose, nearly shedding tears with every little face he saw.

When they decided on one, they got him and drove back home, Tony now being the passenger as he gawked at their little one. His and Steve's little one. _Our_ little one, he thought lovingly.

Tony was the one to carry the bub to his room, laying him in the crib and putting a toy near his head. Steve draped an arm over his shoulders and sighed in contentment, smiling weakly at their new babe.

Tony covered his mouth, breathing in dramatically. Then, wheezing silently, he said, “He’s so fucking precious I think I might die.”

The babe gave a little bark, then opened his eyes and looked up at the couple. His tail wagged and his mouth opened, and Tony was about to faint from happiness as he reached a hand out and pet the babe's head.

“What should we name him?” Tony muttered.

“S . . . Tone . . . SSSSSSSStony.” Steve suggested.

Tony gave him a deadpan look. “Stony? Really? Come on Steve don't be a druggie.”

Steve put his hand up in defense. “Fine, what _should_ we name him then?”

Tony thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Peter.”


	8. Moaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 008 | EDITED ✔

Steve is drunk. That's right. _The_ Captain America is totally, absolutely, _completely_ drunk. It's kinda funny, really. Wasn't Steve supposed to _not_ be affected by alcohol? He was just that dude that sipped on lemonade in the corner of a bar, was he not? Certainly, the last thing the blond ever expected was to be intoxicated. And _this_ intoxicated, for that matter.

But Steve is drunk, and that's that.

He had gone out that night because Clint wouldn't leave him alone. The spy was so determined to loosen Steve up that he literally did not leave his side. Steve was trying to read a book? Clint was calling his name beside him. Steve was visiting Tony down in the lab? Clint was feet away, his voice echoing down the hall. Steve was taking a piss? Clint was outside the door, groaning and bitching about how awesome that night would be if he just agreed to come with.

Steve, being the patient, tolerant guy he is, let this happen. He could literally hear Clint's callings for _days_ and not react, not even bat an eyelash. He only got his ass up and accepted the spy's suggestion when the other Avengers said they couldn't stand the pleading anymore.

When Steve gave him the okay, Clint was cheering and patting his own back, shouting, “I'M ACCOMPLISHED, BITCH!” He then shoved Steve away and demanded he change into something more outdoorsy (“You dress like such an introvert,” he had said).

The second the two met up again Clint was dragging Steve out of the Avengers tower, mumbling compliments to himself about how he just convinced Steve Rogers, the most stubborn man alive, to have a night out with him.

Steve had asked on multiple occasions where Clint was taking him, resisting the tug on his wrist every once in a while when the spy would reply with, “Just a little place downtown," and a not-really-assuring side-smile.

So that was where he was taken. To that little place downtown.

The one-story building was a bar, blasting with music that could deafen you even if you were a mile from it. Steve was already squinting his eyes and blocking an ear to muffle the sound.

He and Clint walked inside--Clint smiling, Steve losing spirit almost immediately.

“Don't these people care about their hearing?” Steve asked over the music, nearly hacking up a lung whilst doing so.

Clint took a seat at the bar corner, the blond sliding into a stool beside him. “Loosen up, will you?” He replied with a roll of his eyes. “That's the exact reason why I brought you here.”

Steve backed off with a nod of defeat and began twiddling with his thumbs. He'd been to bars before on a few occasions, even took a shot or two, but it quickly became boring because the alcohol never took affect. He never slurred dumb things and spilled secrets because there wasn't anything in his system to push him to.

But now, at this very moment, Steve finally realizes what that feels like.

He’s being helped into a taxi by Clint, mumbling incoherent nonsense with a flushed face and a woozy mind. Clint forces himself next to him (since Steve literally couldn't move himself), shoving the blond to practically sprawl out in the back.

The taxi drives its way to the Avengers tower through the Manhattan traffic, letting quiet jazz play from his radio to wave away the silence.

“You know,” Steve suddenly says, a lopsided grin growing on his face. Clint turns his head slightly to show Steve he's giving him his attention, but that doesn't really matter anyway because Steve's eyes aren't even open. “I can't wait to go home and see Tony.”

His words are slurred and his mind is gone from his head, but Clint can hear him loud and clear, and so can the super soldier himself.

Steve tries to stop himself from revealing anymore of his deepest feelings, but with the alcohol so invasive, he can't keep his mouth from moving.

“I don’t like to admit this, but . . . Tony'ssss . . . a gud man . . . He's an asshole a lot of the time, but . . . I can't help the admuration I feel when I see him. You know? He's so talented, focused, determined, pretty . . . He smells nice too.” Steve pauses to chuckle. “Really nice.”

They arrive at the tower after a few more minutes of Steve rambling about Tony and how good of a man he is. Clint pays the driver and hulls Steve out of the car, grumbling and cursing as he does so. Steve can't even use his feet right. It's like they're about to turn in the opposite direction and scar the captain forever.

When Clint and Cap are on the main living floor, Thor and Bruce are shoving each other while playing video games, Natasha is there watching them, and Tony is standing at the island counter in the open kitchen.

Steve is shameless when drunk, so when he sees Tony, he gasps and pushes Clint away, stumbling so severely he might've fallen at least three times attempting one step if it not had been for the wall.

When he’s close enough, Steve throws himself to the brunette, gasping his name and hugging him tight.

“Woah, woah, okay--I wasn't expecting this--” Tony says, patting Steve awkwardly on the back. Steve snuggles his face into Tony's shoulder, smiling into his shirt while he moans and mumbles more incoherent sap about the man in his arms.

Tony looks to Clint, who looks back, a sheepish grin on his face.

“ _Explain_.” The genius demands.

“Uhhhhhhh, one too many drinks I guess?” Clint’s eyes dart to the floor in panic.

“But I thought--” Tony pauses, then sighs. “Alright. I'll take Cap to his room.”

Steve is then dragged to his room, continuing his stream of compliments and admirations about Tony. He keeps repeating how he's so happy to see his face and, again, how good he smells. Tony ignores it, of course (people say dumb stuff when they're drunk all the time), but his cheeks feel hot with every passing sentence from the blondie's mouth. Never had he heard Steve talk so highly of him before. There was always that occasional banter but the majority of their conversations were threats and comments leading to fights. All in all, Steve nor Tony ever admitted to their admiration for each other. At least, not when sober.

Tony gets into Steve's room and lays him down on his bed, removing his jacket before doing so. Steve's eyes at this point are ready to go on lockdown and let him pass out for the night, but the blond still pushes himself to look Tony through and through. “Wait, Tony--” Steve manages, waving his arm around as an attempt to grab the billionaire.

Tony turns to face him, an eyebrow perked. “Yeah?”

There's a long, awkward pause, then Steve finally says, “Love you. Good night.” And then he passes out right there.

The next morning, Steve Rogers is sipping a lemonade and Tony Stark is chugging a black coffee.

Steve puts his cup down gently, clasping his hands together as if he's in a conference meeting. “Tony, what happened last night?”

Tony nearly chokes on his coffee from the question, putting his own cup down in a panic. He wipes his mouth and slowly swallows the beverage, clearing his throat to stall on his answer.

“Ahem, well, uh . . . “


	9. Bloody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 009 | EDITED ✔ (heavily)

Tony opened his eyes with a gasp, almost immediately feeling a pain weighing down on his legs.

He saw everything with blurred vision, and his hearing wasn't doing much better. He could hear explosions and ear-piercing screams of horror in the distance, but he realized that he didn't have the strength to stand up and come to the rescue.

In a dazed confusion mixed with numbing pain, Tony looked around silently to see what's happened. He was disoriented, not even able to stare ahead for long enough to process what had him trapped and feeling so weak.

For once in his life, the armor he was so comfortable in finally felt heavy enough to suffocate him.

He was just about to lull back into unconsciousness, but just then he heard a scream. It was close, and Tony's instincts were spiked so quickly that he sat up--or at least, _attempted_  to. The second he moved a muscle the pain became overbearing. The numbness in his legs was no longer numbing. The pain now felt like several knives were being jabbed into him all at once, and he was so helpless he could do nothing but endure it.

But, so much for enduring because, he screamed so loudly from the pain that his arms started to flail, adding to the hurt manipulating his every move.

“J-Jarvis!” Tony suddenly called, entering a fit of panic, “Jarvis, c . . . come online, buddy. I . . . Release me from my armor. For the love of science release me _please_ . . . “ He could barely make out dark shades of red on his armor, some dried, some newly splattered. Is that . . . _my_ blood? He thought.

“Iron Man!” A voice Tony could barely familiarize shouted. He couldn't tell if it was a villain preparing to end him or if it was a good guy preparing to help him, but when he saw the outline of that physique, strands of blond hair and streaks of red, white and blue, the hurting genius almost bolted up. Almost.

“Cap! H-Hey! I’m--” he felt another shock of pain, making him scream inside his own mouth--"okay . . . “

The captain shook his head frantically. "Bullshit! How'd this _happen_?!" He jogged up to his colleague and instantly a huge boulder came into view. Steve leaned forward an inch, only to discover in terror that Tony's legs were trapped underneath, crushed and bloody.

“Well, I . . . I came here chasing the-the bad guys and I guess they . . . were one step ahead.” Tony said, his vision spotting in a few areas. All he could make out was Cap's uniform and the dull sky in the distance.

“Oh, god, Tony . . . “ Steve muttered, beginning to throw himself at the boulder, only being able to move it at least a centimeter. He couldn't continue his efforts, however, as the more the captain tried, the closer Tony was to screaming his lungs out.

Tony was breathing heavily, on the verge of crying. Helping him was useless. All it would do is give him more pain.

“S-Steven! Cap-- Oh god, stop . . . " Tony wheezed through gritted teeth, "L-leave me, I . . . I can make it out myself.” _Liar_ , his mind seethed. The brunette knew this was probably going to be his last moments, but giving false hope to his friend was all he could think of doing.

“Do you expect me to believe that?" Steve asked helplessly, staring at Tony's bruised and bloodied face with tainted determination. His voice was so soft Tony could barely hear him.

“Steve, I-I'm serious!” Tony yelled, hoping that if he talked louder Steve would believe his lies. But there was no such luck.

The captain's shoulders slumped. "You're lying . . . " He uttered miserably.

It went quiet for a few seconds, then Tony closed his eyes, breathed in, and admitted, “I'm-- . . . My lights will go out soon, and I . . . I don't know if I’ll wake up. My suit can't be removed and . . . and my senses are watered down. I'm useless now, Cap. I just . . . Just make me proud and win this.”

Steve turned away and slapped his hands to his face, balling his eyes as he silently sobbed. No . . . Please, god, _no_.

"Steve," Tony cooed, "l-look at me, Steven."

The captain turned hesitantly, gulping down the knot in his throat.

" _Let me go_." He murmured calmly.

Steve shook his head, coming over to the billionaire and holding his bloodied face in his hands. "I _can't_." He whispered shakily, searching for a sign-- _any_  sign--that told him Tony would make it.

Tony closed his eyes again and managed a hoarse chuckle. "Y-you can say this at my funeral if you want, but . . . You w-were always my favorite d-dumbass."

Steve shut his eyes tight and rolled his lips into his mouth, letting tears pour uncontrollably as he heard Iron Man give his final exhale.

 

Tony gasps awake, sweat covering his arms and face. He looks around his bedroom, breathing heavily. Everything's the same. It . . . It was just a dream. A god-awful dream. He wipes his face and rubs his temples, trying to forget  that traumatic nightmare.

Suddenly, there's a knock on his door, and Tony gets up to see who it is, wiping his arms and face into his tank top to rid of the anxious sweat.

He opens the door to find Steve on the other side, looking worried and confused. “Hey. Jarvis told me to come over because you were--”

Tony cut him off with a hug, breathing out relieved against the super soldier's neck. “Oh my god . . . “ He exhaled shakily. “Oh my god . . . “

Now even more confused, Steve just stands there awkwardly. Then slowly, he wraps his arms around the brunette and pats his back gently, trying to be some sort of comfort.

“You're real, right? I'm--I'm real. Right?” The genius suddenly pulls back.

Steve nods slowly. “This is real, Tony. We're both real.”

“Oh god, thank you . . . “ Tony says into his hands as he tries to hold back tears. “You're okay . . . _I'm_ okay . . . “

“Yes, Tony. We're both okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably my least favorite chapter tbh  
> even though it's edited it's shit


	10. Cute

Steve paced around in his and Tony's bedroom, his expression hardened and focused as he kept up his pattern and silently cursed his boyfriend for his stupidity.

Tony was seated on the edge of their bed, his hands clasped together and his face blank. He seemed focused too, but in reality he was spaced out, staring at the floor to make it look like he was in just as deep thought as the blond pacing before him.

It's been a silent discussion between them for the past half-hour. It was like sign language with their eyes--Steve expressing anger and disappointment and Tony trying to defend himself.

Even in their darkest moments, Steve still saw Tony as cute. He saw it cute how the brunette's eyes still glistened with life. He saw it cute how the brunette would sniff and wipe his nose from time to time. He saw it cute how the little things Tony did were the most prominent to him. But what he didn't find cute was, at times, Tony's overwhelming generosity became overwhelmingly generous.

Steve finally stopped his pacing, turning to face Tony. “I still . . . can't process what you did.” He admitted, trying to keep his temper cool and understanding. Tony quit spacing out and looked up to the blond. Another cute thing was how his lips slightly parted when he looked up to Steve, surprised that he was being talked to at all.

“Steve, I did the right thing. You know I did.” He said promptly, leaning back to sit straighter on the bed with his arms stretched out.

“But at what cost? Your own life? That is unacceptable, Tony.” Steve’s efforts to keep his anger at bay was already in vein as he felt the red seeping into his core quick. Another not-so-cute thing about Tony was his voice. Don't get him wrong, Steve loved Tony's voice--everything about it soothed him--but at times like this the blond wished Tony was born without a mouth, honest to god.

“Of course at the cost of my own life, Steve!” Tony said, standing up. “We're heroes, right? Isn't what I did supposed to be what I do?  _ All _ the time? You know what, It doesn't even matter whether I'm a superhero or not! With or without the Iron Man part of my life, I'd  _ still _ do what I did!”

Steve's jaw clenched. “Tony, today was supposed to be our day off. And you know on days off you don't bring your armor with you! You could've died!”

“Then I'd die knowing I saved one more life. Isn't the fair and just Captain America supposed to be fair and just? You should be understanding my decision right now because you should know that  _ you _ would've done the same thing.”

“Okay, maybe I would, but that doesn't mean--”

“No, don't even!” Tony raised his hand, cutting the blond off. “There are no buts in your argument, Steve, because you are being selfish and inconsiderate for the family that could've lost a kid! I didn't save that boy because I don't care if I live or not. I did it because it was the right thing to do. What any of us  _ can _ do is do what we believe is just. We can't hold ourselves back for the sake of our partners or because no one else will do it.”

“Ha! Me? Selfish? Well,  _ excuse _ me for wanting my boyfriend alive!”

“I appreciate that, I really do, but to save one's life, there has to be at least the tiniest bit sacrifice.”

“ _ Your life is  _ not _ a tiny sacrifice! _ ” Steve snapped. His voice was just loud enough to make Tony nearly lose his footing.

“Stark, all my life I’ve been everything but selfish. I've pushed myself for  _ so long _ to be who I am today. Trust me, I would've continued to be selfless if it had not been for you!

“Tony, when I met you I hated your guts. But now that we're here, in a  _ relationship _ , I do  _ not _ have to be forced to apologize just because I'm a  _ little _ selfish; just because I now have a relationship that keeps me grounded and I want that relationship to last ‘till my dying days.”

Tony's lips purse. Another cute thing. How, when he's finally humbled, he can't find another thing to argue about. After a little staring contest, Tony finally exhaled and said, “Fine, Rogers. Let's agree to disagree.”

“I'm . . . fine with that.” Steve replied. He then stretched out his arms. “Hug it out with me?”

Tony gave a small smile, leaning into his blondie boyfriend and sniffing his masculine scent. “I'm still going to save people's lives.”

“And I'm still going to worry over you and be selfish, as you said.”

The brunette chuckled. “We're chaotic.”

“Yet functional.”

“God, I love you you hunk of meat.”

They kiss, and all is well once again.


	11. Trail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> high school au! featuring . . .  
> \- more jock steve!  
> \- more edgy bad boy tony!

Tony jumped awake, pulling himself from a nightmare that consisted of deaths and being chased by a hellhound. The brunette rubbed his eyes and looked to his phone on the nightstand, which was on and had a new notification on the lock screen.

Thinking of it as odd, the brunette unplugged his phone from the charger and looked to see what the notification was. He swiped to open the app, being greeted by a text from Steve saying, “Meet at the downtown cafe.” The text was recent, sent only a few minutes before he awoke, and right now it's 5am, the sun barely risen in the horizon. But, no matter. It's not like Tony had a regular sleeping schedule.

He got out from his bed and slid on a jacket, his sweatpants, and some sneakers before stuffing his phone in his pocket and heading out of the house. His parents were usually gone for work at this time (it's almost like they sleep there instead of home itself), so no one was there to demand he get back to his room. What were his maids going to do? Threaten to call his parents? Tch.

Tony left the building and started walking down the sidewalk. The downtown cafe was far from his neighborhood, but Tony had no intention of returning home for a while. Home just gets so lonely when your parents are barely ever home and your maids only tolerate you because they get paid big time.

It took a minute, but Tony finally arrived at the cafe and stepped inside, seeing how it was barely full. There was only two insomniac college students typing away on their computers in the corners. There was them, but no Steve. Tony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Didn't blondie say to meet up here? He made it up to the register and was greeted by a female brunette, who tried very effortlessly to hide the smile on her face.

“Hey, um. Did you see a teenage boy here anywhere? Blond, tall, muscular, smells like destruction and rose petals?” Tony asked. By now, the brunette had her lips rolled into her mouth, still containing her smile. She said nothing to him, only handed him an orange sticky note that had Steve's handwriting scribbled on it.

It read: “Hey baby. This is where we first met, remember? Kinda silly how we never noticed each other in school, even though we have AP chemistry together. I remember when I first saw you here I freaked out because I always admired you in class like a geek and I knew that this maybe was the only time I'd ever muster the guts to talk to you. I'm so glad you actually kept conversation going because I would've died within the first five seconds. Go on to the movie theater. - Steve x.”

Tony's face flushed a tinge, but he then looked back up to the barista and asked, “How did you know I'm the person who's supposed to receive this?”

Again, the brunette said nothing. She simply brought up a sticky note of her own, this one white and again covered with Steve's writing. “Give this orange sticky note to a guy with brown hair and brown eyes. He has a disgruntled expression 24/7.” It read. Then on the back there was a quick sketch of Tony himself, strikingly similar to the real thing.

“Disgruntled expression twenty-four seven?? Do I?--you know what--okay. Thank you!” Tony said, waving goodbye as he got out of the cafe. “Disgruntled my ass . . . “ He muttered, a disgruntled expression on his face.

He made his way to the movie theater, seeing a man by one of the many double doors. Tony slowly approached him, about to say something but instead being handed another orange sticky note without even making eye contact.

The note read, “This is where we had our first date. Cliche, I know, but it was great nonetheless. Now that I look back on it, I remember how euphoric I was when you said yes to my offer. My god, you were adorable when your face turned red and couldn't speak. Move on to the center water fountain. - Steve x.”

Tony smiled the tiniest bit and mumbled a thanks to the man before walking off to the center fountain.

When he got there, there was another guy sitting on the marble edge of the fountain. Tony approached him and the man smiled, handing him the note.

Tony thanked him and the man left after a kind wave goodbye. The brunette himself sat on the fountain and started to read. “Our first kiss was here baby! I sort of died when you pulled me in so suddenly and shut me up. I still cringe thinking about how rambly I got prior to the lip lock. But anyway, your lips are really nice. You're really nice. I like you. Maybe we can be boyfriends. ;) Move on to the forest. - Steve x.”

Tony rolled his eyes as he grinned at the open space surrounding him. His boyfriend asking to be his boyfriend. What is this? Their wedding anniversary?

Tony hopped off his ass and marched to the forest. The forest wasn't really a forest so much as it was just a couple trees that were deep enough to barely be considered one.

When Tony arrived, he saw a sheet of copy paper nailed into a tree, again with Steve's writing on it. He walked up and read it.

“This was our chill-out spot when we were just bros. I really like this place. Sadly, we haven't visited here in a while. I'd really like to get back to our daily trips here and have some more quality time with you. ♡ Follow the rose-petal-and-confetti trail and read the upcoming papers. - Steve x.”

Tony did as told, now spotting the beginning of the rose-petal-and-confetti trail. He walked down it. After passing a few trees, he found another paper. “Remember when you brought a beer that one time and we shared it as we watched the sunset like gaylords? That was fun. But I do have to say, Stark, your taste in alcohol sucks ass. But I still love you all the same. ^u^ - Steve x.” It said.

After a few more steps down the trail, Tony came across the final note near the clearing where he and Steve used to admire their city. “I know what I've been writing must've cringed you out by now since you aren't one for love letters, but I hope today you can make an exception. (Your fault for dating a hopeless romantic.) But anyway--Tony, you're a great person, and I'm glad we're dating. I've never been so proud to announce my love for anyone I've dated in the past. I guess I just have a thing for edgy bad-boy geniuses. You're such an inspiration, what with your stubbornness and determination, and I want to ask you this one thing before any of your other admirers can . . . “

Tony looked to the clearing when he heard some shuffling, and there he saw Steve with a big poster that said, “PROM?” and a picnic basket hanging from his right arm.

Tony felt his whole body melt and his heart wheeze so loudly he might've died. He grinned so big and ran up to the jock, ripping the sign from his grasp and hugging him tight. “Of course I'll go to prom with you you big loser!” He said when he pulled away, shoving Steve in the chest playfully. Steve smiled and set the picnic basket down.

“For a second there, I thought you were going to propose, what with this overwhelming sap and all. Isn't this what they do for those occasions? Not this kind?” Tony chuckled when he and Steve sat beside each other on the laid out blanket.

“Well, I mean . . . Do you want me to propose to you?” Steve hummed.

Tony snorted. “Duh. Where's my ring you little shit?”

Steve chuckled, taking Tony's left hand and kissing the knuckle of his ring finger. “Soon, baby. Promise.”

“Yeah, that's right.” Tony huffed with pretend-arrogance, leaning forward to kiss Steve lovingly. When they parted, Steve pulled out some homemade pancakes and eggs and two bottles of Tony's favorite beer.

Tony smirked. “You know me so well.”

They popped open their drinks and clinked them together before taking a swig. Steve absolutely _hated_ Tony's taste, and Tony laughed when he saw his wrinkled face. But no matter, they were together now, watching the sunrise and eating breakfast in the peace and quiet of nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not my best chapter thanks to the lack of inspiration, but I've done worse (surprisingly)


	12. Accidental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH. 012 | EDITED ✔  
> re-done chapter because the last one was ugly
> 
> \- implied clintasha  
> \- chaotic bisexual steve rogers & #1 howard hater tony stark

Steve always thought he had good self-control. It was rare that he ever let anything slip off his tongue--even in those worst-case scenarios--but when it _did_ happen, nothing major or private was let loose. Ever.

So what happened just now still has the blond confused (and embarrassed) as all hell.

Today was one of the very few days off for the Avengers, and each one was doing their own thing. Clint and Natasha were being affectionate bullies to each other while they trained, Bruce was with Tony down in the lab, and Thor was destroying the kitchen trying to find something to devour. And Steve? Steve was in the middle of it all, doing nothing but reading random files he found around the tower.

With no real hobbies aside from kicking bad-guy ass and art, Steve honestly didn't have better to do. And when he couldn't find anymore files to read, he decided to head down to where the science bros were chilling to check for anymore files there--or at least, the ones Tony would let him read.

When he made it down to the floor, he saw Bruce walking out of the lab. They exchanged quick hellos before disappearing from each other's sights. When Steve took foot into the lab, he called out to Tony, “Where's Bruce heading off to?”

“Needed to piss, he said.” Tony replied, tapping on a holographic screen and zooming in on a box-shaped object. Steve ignored Tony's little zoom-in-zoom-out gig, instead walking over to the corner where tall drawers were pushed against each other. “Can I read the files in here?” He called out again.

Tony looked at him for a brief second before shrugging and turning back to his work. He had forgotten the stuff in there, and wasn't all that concerned about what Cap would find. The majority of the folders in there were most probably Howard's projects. The projects he was too focused on to even say “Good job,” to his overachieving, trying-to-make-my-dissatisfied-dad-proud kid.

Now that Steve thinks about it, that's probably why Tony never touched those drawers in the first place.

The blond opened the top drawer on the left first, being greeted with specks of dust that whooshed around like annoying pests. He swiped them out of his face then grabbed a random folder, opening the thick paper and checking the contents inside. He slouched against an abandoned table adjacent to the drawers, starting his mental narration of the project notes.

Every so often, he'd glance up and still find Tony up and about, seemingly twirling around in his little space. And, although Steve would never admit it, he'd catch a glimpse of Tony's curved buttock and maybe even stare-- _subconsciously,_ of course. Probably.

Every folder Steve had pulled out during the next few minutes were boring, but finally, after some not-so-deep searching, he found something jackpot-like.

Project Arsenal.

Steve opened the folder and was again greeted by dust, similar to how he started all the other folders, but the photos didn't consist of _just_ the project in here. In quite a few of the polaroids, the pictures were of Project Arsenal _and_ Howard. The senior Stark looked proud and tired at the same time, even giving a thumbs-up to the camera in one. It was a refreshing sight, really. Proof that Howard Stark had a heart.

Steve walked up to Tony, folder in his arms. “Tony, look.” He called, eyes still glued to the picture of Happy Howard. Tony looked up from his holographic screen to see what Steve wanted him to, and immediately after seeing Howard's face the brunette rolled his eyes and looked back to his 3D layout. “So he can pose with a robot but not show up to even _one_ of my birthday parties?” Steve heard him mutter.

The super soldier frowned, putting the folder down, closed, in front of the both of them.

“Tony, I knew your father. He was a good man, truly.” He said gently, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

“I know, but--your words don't make me change my opinion on him. Maybe he was a good man, a helluva inventor, sure, but he wasn't a good father. When I was younger I used to think he really did want to spend time with me, but work was just too much. But I know now that that wasn't true. He had multipl chances to come spend time with me, but he chose to build Stark Industries instead of enforcing the stability of his family.” Tony glanced at Steve, who was now leaned against the desk with his arms crossed, and sighed, shaking his head.

Steve hung to every word, keeping his mouth shut as he let Tony ramble. Steve was never a son to Howard. Sure, Howard said “you're like a son to me” a couple times, but he wasn't blood like Tony was. He could only imagine how lonely and hurtful it must've been to have your father call someone else their son and hold them closer than they ever have with their own blood.

“Not only that,” Tony continued suddenly, “but with every accomplishment I ever had--whether it was straight As, building a high-functioning machine in first grade, or whatever the fuck else--he'd never be satisfied. I even got A-plus-plus-pluses somehow! Yet he never cared enough to even congradulate me. He made me feel like such a disappointment for so long . . . ”

Steve crossed his arms tighter. He wanted to say something, but he didn't. Or, well, _attempted_ to didn't.

“I don't think you're a disappointment . . . ”

Immediately, Steve's pale cheeks were tinted the softest shade of pink, and from here on out he just _knew_ he wouldn't be able to talk right.

Tony looked to him again, his cheeks lightly flushed too. “Really now?”

“Well, yeah, I mean . . . You're--you're brilliant, and talented, and can last for _hours_ during parties. You're . . . Well, I don't want to say incredible, but . . . that's exactly what you are.”

It was silent for what seemed like a million years, tension quickly becoming too much to bear between the two men.

Truth is, everyone _except_ Captain America realized he had feelings for Tony. Even the brunette himself had suspicions--not that anyone caught him complaining.

Everyone said their chemistry was so thick not even Natasha could quote-unquote “slice that bitch.” It was a hilarious phrase when spoken by J.A.R.V.I.S., but it made Tony have an actual crisis on how far gone he and Cap really were with each other.

But now, with the two staring into each other's eyes like they do in rom-coms, they could feel that chemistry pull them closer to one another, and neither hesitated when their lips collided.

Both men were screaming and fist-pumping the air mentally, patting themselves on the back like they were kings. This was utopia, wasn't it?

“Whoa! I go to piss and eat some bagels and I come back to this??” Bruce shouted from the door, scaring the absolute shit out of both Metal Man _and_ Stars ‘n’ Stripes.

Steve was the first to pull back, sliding off the desk and stumbling clumsily a few feet away from Tony. He was wiping his mouth as an attempt to hide the harsh blush now present on his skin, but to be completely honest, Cap wouldn't have minded keeping the mark of Tony's lips on him forever--

“It was an accident!” The blond suddenly shouted back, putting both hands up now as if he were being arrested.

“An accident?” Bruce laughed, almost dryly, stepping deeper into the lab. “You're telling me kissing Tony Stark at such an angle it looked like a cheesy scene like the ones in rom-coms was an _accident?_ Oh, Steve, you are quite possibly the worst joker I've ever met.”

“Ajahjahahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I'll be going--” Steve wheezed, waving awkwardly to the two (but mostly to Tony, who was still red in the face) before dashing off.

So now, here he is, screaming into his pillow in the privacy of his bedroom and cringing over the earlier scenario.

Dear god--Steve Rogers, you are _chaotic_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is currently 4am at the time of finishing this fucking chapter and i've been awake since 12. i think my head might actually fall off my neck i need to pass out like right now


	13. Mug

This was probably the worst day of Tony Stark's life.

No villain could weigh down on him as heavy as this depressing day. It was . . . all too much to bear.

His favorite cup, a mug with a print of his arc reactor on the side, had been shattered into pieces, just like his heart. What cup would he use for his coffee now? That mug was the only one existing of that merch. Surely this petty billionaire wouldn't use the basic white mugs his friends use. Why would he? He’s Tony Fucking Stark!

But even Tony Fucking Stark knew he'd have to go back to the drawing board someday.

Until Steve Rogers handed him a new mug. It was plain and white, like all the others in the cupboards, but this one had a message that was written in Sharpie with the blond’s messily neat handwriting.

It read, “I love you - Steve :)”

And that was more than enough to cheer Tony up and start his day like normal, sipping coffee from his new favorite cup.


	14. Scarf

Steve wasn't a fan of winter for two reasons: one, he didn't like the cold, and two, that cold reminded him of when he crashed his plane into the freezing water on that damned traumatic day.

Those memories never played well with his mental state, especially now since he's grown softer thanks to his boyfriend Tony.

On one of their Winter Wonderland walks (as Tony called it), it was a particularly cold day (duh, it was winter) and Steve felt uneasy walking around town in heavy clothing like he used to back in the forties. Not even his Captain America suit was as heavy as the coat he was wearing then.

He and Tony went to a coffee shop for the sole purpose of warming--or rather, burning--their hands, occasionally taking sips as they walked around town.

When they took a seat on one of the sidewalk benches, Steve tried taking in the coolness of the air, attempting to suppress the memories of the freezing-cold ocean and how it felt piercing against his skin and made his uniform suffocating to wear. It was a scary thought and, although Steve was good at pushing down those terrifying moments of his life, he could still feel a shiver strike uncomfortably down his spine.

Tony noticed this and turned his head, lips slightly puckered and an eyebrow raised.

“Cold?” He asked. Steve looked back at him and smiled that famous left-corner-of-lip smile of his. Only when he breathed out did he realize how below-zero his skin felt, and it managed to freak him out a bit. “Uh, maybe a little.” He admitted, turning back to stare ahead. He watched people push through others on the sidewalk opposite of them, cars speeding passed and advertising signs glowing dimly under the blocked sunlight.

“Then here,” Tony said. He put his coffee in between his legs and unwinded his scarf from around his neck, draping it around Steve’s shoulders instead. Steve was going to protest and hand it back, but he was already too late as Tony was wrapping it around his neck now, the scarf being so long that it managed to cover even his mouth.

“Better?” Tony mused, smiling that entertained smile that Steve knew so well. The supersoldier adjusted the scarf so it covered his mouth no longer before saying, “Better.”

To be honest with you, even though Steve still felt bad for having Tony’s warm ass scarf, it smelled just like him, so the blond didn’t complain.

“Where’d you get this scarf?” Steve caught himself asking. Tony thought for a moment then sheepishly shrugged, earning a laugh from the blond. “I . . . I got it somewhere. Why, did you want one?”

“Sorta. I don’t know.” Steve gave a shrug of his own.

“Well, you can keep that one.”

“Really?” Steve said, surprised. Even though Tony was his boyfriend, Steve still felt iffy about sharing things. He was paranoid that people would think he was just using Tony for his stuff, and that wasn’t true. He hoped silently that Tony knew that already.

“Yeah. I’ll just find another one online.” Tony took another sip of his coffee.

“Oh. Well, thanks.” The captain muttered. He sniffed the scarf in secret, enjoying the smell of Tony’s cologne rubbed off on it. Maybe he and winter can finally come to terms, shake hands, as long as this scarf is protecting him from the memories.


	15. Hellish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of soulmate au at the end?

Steve's been through many things that were hellish, be it war, losing friends, or severe PTSD triggers.

But nothing could ever compare to the panic Captain America felt when Iron Man fell from the sky, possibly dead.

It was like the wildest of roller coasters that you end up hating forever; it was like being tied by the ankle under the whole of the ocean and struggling to get out; it was like burning alive, like hell.

This moment alone had nearly made Steve double over and choke out his heart. Sure, he and Tony were never on the best terms before that moment, but the blond knew that that arguing was their bonding. The threats, the insults--it was just them knowing each other, knowing each other just enough to rub it in each other's faces.

Steve almost gave up hope honestly. Seeing Tony as the way he was, it was almost certain that he wouldn't wake up again.

Until he did. And Steve couldn't feel anymore euphoric.

He had wanted to jump up and hug this hunk of metal, pat him on the back and congratulate him on the victory they wouldn't have won without him. But he didn't. He stayed put, sitting down, only giving relieved sighs and smiles as Tony dazily talked of shawarma.

Steve guessed, after some thought, that this is where he felt it. Where he first felt a strong pull toward Stark. It was weird, very, but he got used to it and sometimes the blond could tell Tony felt it too.

When they felt that sudden pull to each other, they'd look up from what they were doing and make eye contact. Steve would smile fondly and Tony would just go back to what he was doing.

If Steve was being frank, though, he enjoyed it. It wasn't so bad to feel that something for Stark, and he could tell it wasn't so bad for Stark to feel that something for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhh shit dawg i have school so that's why i wasn't able to make new chapters recently
> 
> i'm gonna get back into the gig though don't worry babies


	16. Measure

Tony was very careful when it came to Steve Rogers.

Before they had gotten together Tony had measured every possibility that could happen if he took the chance to ask the captain on a date. He thought of every reaction--would Steve be astonished, grateful, excited, or would he be confused, unsure, or disgusted?--every response--would he say "Yes! Of course!" Or "No! Of course not!"--every little thing, Tony thought of.

Of course, with his pessimism, the brunette unconsciously believed Steve would react badly the whole way through. He'd shove the bribing gifts Tony imagined he bought right into his chest and nag on and on about how selfish he was and say that there were so many other things that were more important than his feelings. Tony imagined his heart being deflated and then stretched until it tore open and let loose all the emotions he no longer would want.

The thought of Rogers rejecting him in such a way not only sunk his heart but it swallowed his dignity until it was no more. All the more reason for Tony to doubt his decision.

But still, with Tony's developing obsessiveness over Steve's possible reaction to his offer, he found the determination to continue planning his approach. Of course, he'd need Steve to trust him--build their relationship a little more, because during this time Tony and Steve weren't on the best of terms. They argued days on end like an old married couple, always catching something, whether big or small, to shout about.

"Why'd you dismantle the toaster?!"

"Why'd you use my mug?!"

Small things like this was all they would talk about. But after a while Tony stopped seeing these daily bickerings as a nuisance and more of a fondness shared between him and the captain only. Admitted openly or whispered in private, Tony knew he liked how fierce Steve was. He liked a person who had dignity and sureness of themselves and their opinions. He liked strong people, and he liked how they'd be willing to take and give confrontation to anyone who needed it. Hence is why, on one late night when Steve came back to the tower with the faint existence of a kiss mark on the corner of his lips, Tony realized he liked Steve Rogers. They'd argued about it. "Steve, were you hooking up with someone?" "My private life isn't your business, Stark. Back off." "Well, if you're living in my tower your private life _is_ my business!"

And then the night went on. Even though after every argument Tony was left exhausted and mad, he couldn't help the admiration bubbling in his stomach over how strong Cap was. How he stood tall and firm. How his fists clenched and his pretty lips perked the slightest bit when Tony spoke to him with a sharp tongue. How, even when he lost in an argument, he'd dust himself off and continue walking, stepping onward with so much elegance that not even a blow to the ego could damage him.

But as time passed and Tony's feelings grew more sure, the genius only became more chaotic. He spent many sleepless nights thinking about approaching Rogers with a soft hello rather than a scornful glare. He didn't want it to seem like he was finally bowing down to Steve--heaven's no--but he didn't want to continue with the hourly fights.

So, as Tony and Steve grew more fond of one another, Tony's attitude became more affectionate.

It started out slow, casual, mistaken for usual kindness rather than an actual sign of affection and liking. Tony had offered Steve a cup of coffee. Steve skeptically said yes, and from then on Tony asked him daily. It only took a week, however, until Tony was up earlier than Steve, brewing him a coffee right before he woke, leaving a sticky note on what has now been claimed his permanent coffee cup that had his name quickly scribbled onto it.

Steve silently thanked him every morning as he took a sip, feeling refreshed with the spoonful of creamer, dash of sugar, and sprinkle of affection all mixed into one special mug.

Soon, Tony's advances became bolder. Although still invisible to the naked eye, Tony had offered Steve many nights out, inviting another one of the Avengers so his intentions weren't apparent. He'd say things like, "Me and Clint are going to see the game, wanna come?" or "Nat is forcing me to shop with her. Wanna suffer with me?" Casual things like that that hid so much longing.

But then, after he was out of subtle approaches, Tony started to become a perfectionist. He measured everything with uncertainty, giving every possibility a 50/50 chance of happening. He didn't want to be so sure of something and then get the exact opposite. He left everything in the hands of time and chemistry.

On the night he asked Steve on a date, they were alone walking down the Manhattan sidewalks, peeking through windows of vintage shops and occasionally stopping at a food place for a quick munch. Tony hadn't invited anyone else other than Steve this time. If he was going to ask, he didn't need the surprised gasping of one of the guys in his ear. Doing what he was going to do would be unnerving enough, and to have reactions from an audience that didn't need to hear it weren't going to simmer his tension.

Steve and Tony had been walking for a good few hours that night, and had stopped at the entrance of a park. They sat down on a bench and chatted over small things, embracing the warm chill of the night as the moon shined and the stars twinkled distantly.

As both men's lips closed and their conversation was silenced, Tony's heart rate increased. He was going to do it. He was going to ask Steve on a date.

Except--when Tony did it, it didn't come out as a question or an offer. More of a suggestion or demand.

"You should go on a date with me." He said casually, too flustered by himself to realize how he worded it.

"What?" Steve turned to him, eyebrow raised with confusion despite the clear sparkle in his eyes.

"You, me, date." Tony repeated simply, feeling his anxiety skyrocket.

Steve had just stared at him dumbfounded, jaw hanging as he thought of what to say. Tony didn't know why. He didn't expect hesitation. He only counted the immediate answers like yes and no--he didn't fathom the possibility of Steve taking careful consideration.

"I--" Steve paused, making Tony's throat close.

"I'd like that." Steve finally breathed out, eyebrows furrowing as if unsure. Tony noticed and said quickly, "If you're saying yes out of pity then just stop now. Don't make things awkward."

"No, Tony--" Steve laughed breathlessly, leaning back into the bench. "I'm serious. I want that date."

The billionaire's ears flushed red and he looked down as if he lost a dog. He then smiled, shaking his head and groaning into his hands as the stress was pulled from his shoulders. "Oh, thank god." He muttered into his palms.

After agreeing on the day the date would be held, Steve started to reciprocate a lot more. He got up earlier than Tony did to make _him_ a coffee, and he became the one to ask for nights out.

And when the date day arrived, both men out-did themselves. They dressed casually but fancy, trying to be as pleasing to the other as possible. They had went out to eat and played arcade games, even rushing to an amusement park to just have a blast with each other.

And went they went home, Steve tucked Tony into bed and left.

Tony doesn't know of this little fact to this day, but Steve still looks back on the night Tony asked him out, thinking of how it was such a coincidence since Steve himself had been measuring every possibility up to that very night. He'd been humbled and stiffened by Tony's possible reactions, weighed down by the thought that Tony would reject him when he was going to ask him out.

But thankfully, Tony did the dirty work for him. But, _oh boy_ you should've witnessed the chaos when it was Steve's turn to return the favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG HI GUYS
> 
> sorry i haven't been updating like i said i would but!! summer break is coming really soon so i'll be able to get back in the game!!!


	17. Recondite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so ever since i posted chapter 15 i realized i made the mistake of letting steve have two chapters in a row so this chapter will be tony's 2nd chapter in a row and then i'll let the pattern turn back to normal
> 
> i've been threatening to eat myself since i realized this god awful mistake and now i'm finally correcting it so thank god
> 
> besides this word fits tony better anyway
> 
> and . . . *crashes symbols* HIGH SCHOOL AU IS BACK

Tony believed he knew everything. Or, at least, _close_ to everything.

What the egotistical teenager couldn't figure out was the blondie in his engineering class. Steve Rogers.

Tony had been studying him ever since freshman year, watching from afar every movement the pretty boy made. The way he'd smile or the way his jaw clenched was all vivid in Tony's ripe memory, being replayed over and over again as if there was something that was hidden behind every twitch of skin that needed to be unfolded and glorified. But it just so happened that the harder Tony tried, the more mysterious Steve became.

The tall blond was fit and handsome; he could be a part of any school sport he wanted to be in with little training, yet he chose to stay reserved and squished into himself as he drew in his sketchbook with passion and with love.

He was the kind of guy you'd love to be friends with simply because of who he was. Not even the popular kids would care for his money or how poorly he lived or anything like that. They'd just care because Steve is Steve, and yet Tony only ever found three people talking to him. Natasha Romanoff, the head of the girl's basketball team, Sam Wilson, a runner in track, and Bucky Barnes, a player in football. All of them fairly well-known people, but at the same time average and not overwhelmed with friendships.

And this was the thing that bothered Tony the most: why didn't Steve have a girlfriend? With everything that Steve's being is, he should've at least had five relationships by now. But there's only been one publicly shared before, a fact Tony found out only last month. Steve claimed he'd only dated one girl back in middle school, her name Peggy Carter. They broke up because Steve moved to Manhattan and Peggy had no solid reason to tag along, so they had to break it off. Surely after two years Steve would've moved on but, Tony overheard him on a handful of occasions referencing Peggy with such longing and delicacy that made Tony realize the fact that maybe Steve was still not over her.

Tony had caught himself complaining about Steve indirectly countless times to his friends Bruce Banner, a genius with a temper, and Clint, the best player in soccer and Romanoff's boyfriend. He would always groan and say things like, "He's such a riddle and I hate it." And then the boys would always ask, "Who are you talking about?" And then Tony would freeze and say awkwardly, "No one. Just some asshole in my class."

Of course, Tony didn't really think Steve was an asshole--if anything, Steve was a really generous person, and he'd seen it with his own eyes--but with all the problems Steve's mystery was giving him he couldn't help the light insults slipping from his tongue here and there.

When it was time to go home, Tony would always linger by the front doors just to watch Steve walk out with Bucky, as he usually did. Every day, Steve came out at the same time, same way, same person chatting in his ear relentlessly. It took a week but eventually Steve noticed him loitering and would wave to him kindly. Tony would nod back in response, and then Bucky would look at Steve and get real close to him, mumbling things Tony never quite got the translation of. Which made him more suspicious. Which made him more irritated. Which made him more infatuated by Steve as the days went by. After all this time, you'd be surprised if Tony said Steve _wasn't_ on his mind all the time.

Near the week of prom, Tony only got more frustrated. He wanted to know who Steve was asking so he could get a tinge of knowledge about his type, and who he possibly liked. For whatever reason, Tony found this as important.

It was certainly hectic then. Everything Tony gathered and admired and knew oh so well from Steve still added to nothing. He didn't understand the waves Steve gave him at the end of the day, he didn't understand the knowing looks from Bucky every time Steve and Tony were in a ten foot radius of each other, and he certainly didn't understand the glances Steve gave back to him every time Tony turned to study him in engineering.

He just didn't know. The most recondite thing Tony had ever witnessed was Steve, and my _god_ did he hate it.

The day before prom, Tony was opening his locker, taking his stuff and shoving them into his bag quickly so he could see Steve before he walked home with Bucky. As he closed his locker, he was frightened of the sight of Steve right next to him, leaned against the neighboring locker and studying him carefully.

Tony looked left and right, over his shoulder and through the double doors, but the second his eyes were pulled back into Steve's, he realized _he_ was the one the blond was looking at.

"Uh . . . Can I help you?" Tony asked, feeling the back of his neck become hot with awkwardness.

Steve gave that half smile Tony's been mesmerised by since the first time he'd seen it, even letting a chuckle pass his lips a bit.

"You, Stark, are the biggest mystery I've ever encountered." He said smoothly, looking back up at the brunette with internal panic and longing.

"Excuse me?" I'm sorry, but have you seen yourself? Tony thought. You say I'm a mystery? I'm an open fucking book unlike you!

"You're a mystery." Steve repeated. "How'd you know I like puzzles?"

Tony could feel heat on his ears under his hood. He didn't know if that was because of Steve or because he was wearing a hoodie in 84 degree weather. "Uh--I didn't, actually. You yourself are a puzzle so . . . maybe check yourself out." Tony shrugged passively, trying to dodge the awkwardness that had already overpowered him.

He heard Steve give another laugh, longer and louder this time. Much nicer, in all honesty. "Then . . . Go to prom with me. Maybe then I'll finally let you know my secrets. How's that sound?"

Tony immediately froze. Prom? With Steve Rogers? He never realized how eager he was for this until he felt his heart do somersaults. "Uh--I--uhm--" Tony was at loss for words, stumbling over himself as it felt time was running out.

"Uh--uh, yeah. Yeah, I'll go. No biggie." He finally managed. He saw relief and victory in Steve's dazzling blue eyes as he said, "Sweet. See you then."

And then they parted. And in that moment Tony realized that Steve looked at him every time he was doodling in his sketchbook because maybe he was the inspiration for his drawings; he realized Steve gave him those second-long glances when talking to friends because maybe he was the topic of conversation; he realized that Steve quickly shut up about Peggy when Tony strolled by because maybe he had moved on and Tony was now his number one; he realized that Steve called him a mystery because maybe he had been studying Tony since the beginning as well.


	18. Ugly

Many people found Tony Stark ugly, even the man himself did. But Steve Rogers didn't. Never once had he thought that since he's met the man.

Even after all their strenuous quarrels or their searing glares to one another, Steve never found the billionaire ugly. As a matter of fact, whenever Tony's eyes do all the work and dig into Steve's soul, the captain could honestly never find him anymore beautiful than that. The way his eyes contorted with all this passion, emotion, _humanness_ that reminded Steve he's finally found a person who could ground him from his idealistic fantasies or his over-the-top opinions; the way certain areas of his face like his brows or the left corner of his lips would minutely perk, drawing in on themselves like a storm bringing on the thunder of animation and beauty; the way words of either admiration or irritation spilled from his soft lips, creating an ocean so aggressively attractive that it took your breath away the second you heard the natural scruff in his voice.

Nothing, _nothing_ about Tony Stark could ever be ugly.

But Steve Rogers would never admit it. Not out loud, anyway. And especially not to Tony directly. He'd only keep himself distanced, admiring from afar the chaotic genius dancing around his ideas and theories, letting his pencil glide itself over a page in his sketchbook, shading, pressing, sculpting all that he could to make the beauty of Tony Stark pop.


	19. Reflect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post-civil war

Tony had sat in solitude for weeks since the war with Steve happened. He hadn't gone out to eat, drink, very rarely would he even have the energy to change clothes or take a shower. He just stayed put in his room, letting the darkness consume him like it's consumed his soul.

Steve had been his love for only a couple months prior to the fight, and they always babbled like an old married couple. Of course, their arguments were never harsh and whatnot, but--the topic of the accords? God, Tony can't even think about it unless he wants to let a sob pass his lips.

On the very rare occasions that Tony would get up and fix himself in his bathroom, probably the thing he feared most other than the civil war was his own face. He couldn't stand the scars that were set deep into him. If he looked too long, he would belch. Not that the scars were gruesome, but because Steve had been the one to do the damage. His reflection was a constant reminder of this horrible, horrible mistake on both their ends. Tony had done him dirty too, he was sure of it, but part of the broken billionaire wondered if Steve went through the same problem. Did he look in the mirror and let a tear slip when he saw his scars? Would he be disgusted looking at his broken suit because it reminded him of when he and his then-boyfriend tore each other apart with no mercy or remorse? Did he ever wish to go back in time and fix them before any of this happened? Tony did. He did every day.

On many occasions Tony found himself thinking, "What if I just threw the accords away? Would me and Steve finally be able to suck up the tension and go back to normal?  Would that decision bring us both justice?"

Maybe not, but Tony couldn't help but fantasize.

Goodness, how he looked at Steve when he was done being beaten. How heartbroken and shocked he was. How Steve left with Bucky in his arms, leaving the love of his life on the floor to bleed out. At least, that's what Steve called him. The love of his life. How silly Tony still yearned for Steve to call him it. On many restless nights Tony thought of the first time Steve kissed him, bit him, and loved him. It was bliss on all counts, and it was perfect. How they fought even in bed and touched each other with delicate fingertips; how every murmur was a sound of love and commitment. It was euphoria, and it was home. But now home doesn't exist anymore, does it? What Tony lives in now isn't home. His home pushed him out and left him lifeless, alone, in a world where he needed the warmth of him the most.

Sometimes Tony stared at the flip phone mailed to him by the captain himself, seriously contemplating if whether or not he should really take the chance to call Steve. He would never forget the sound of his voice, god no, but it wouldn't be so bad to hear the real thing every now and then.

Tony didn't have anything serious to discuss when he thought of calling Steve, he just wanted to do late night talks that weren't limited by time or distance--he wanted the warmth of Steve's voice to swirl him around and revive his soul that had since been dull. He just wanted to beg Steve back, as if it was his fault the accords appeared, as if it were his fault his boyfriend's best friend killed his parents. As if everything was his fault. He would gladly admit to it if it meant Steve would fall back to him.

But every time he saw his reflection on the phone screen and Steve's number just sitting there--he couldn't do it. He couldn't see himself or Steve's number and have the confidence to make a call. He couldn't see the damage done and he didn't have strength to make it better.

Salt in the wound, it felt. And his reflection was what made the cut.


	20. Stretch

Work for Steve Rogers was tiresome every day; everyone in the tower knew it when they saw the captain practically crawling through the elevator doors with his hair disheveled, his S.H.I.E.L.D. suit scuffed, and the obvious stretchy worn-outness of his attitude. They'd share soft hellos with the poor man then just let him go on his way to his "home", keeping their conversations low out of respect for his certain headache.

Steve thanked them silently all times, grateful for their carefulness, as he would've snapped otherwise thanks to irritation from work.

You might be guessing what Steve's "home" is. Is the tower he lives in home? On a literal standpoint, yes, but in Steve's head? No. Is his bedroom filled with vintage souvenirs and a cozy bed his home? Though Steve reflects on the life he should've had and his room is the provider for those memories, no, that place isn't home either.

Then what on earth is Steve's home? As he walks down those familiar steps and opens that silky glass door, in the lab is where his home is. Standing in front of all sorts of holograms, both big and small, tall and wide, is his husband Tony Stark, orchestrating all the technology around him with sharp swipes to any direction and delicate taps to any screens.

Then, and only then, does Steve's exhaustian alleviate. It's like he's simply a better person from the mere sight of his husband--Tony just has _that_ strong of an impact on _anyone_. The captain's attitude completely brightens, his slumped posture straightens, and the happiness Tony makes him feel is all that he needs to destroy the empty tiredness riling up in his chest.

Nothing has to happen between the couple at all. Just a quick notion to Tony that he's here and standing beside each other in this comforting silence is all the pair need to have all their worries and stresses float away.

And everyone in the tower knew that too, because the second the duo comes crashing into the living room talking about bagels being a donut's crispier cousin or if tomato sauce is really a jelly, they can see Tony's fingers no longer twitching from constant obsessive insomnia and Steve's stretchy worn-out attitude now more blinding than the sun. And this, _this_  is what Steve pictures as home.


	21. File

He was at it again.

The whole night Tony's been chugging down beers and reading through Howard's old files, letting his sober thoughts come stumbling out of his drunken mouth.

The billionaire honestly had no idea how he got to this point, sipping on sadness and being envious over robotic inventions, but he didn't bother to try and remember. Maybe it was that kind of scenario where he just so happened to be next to Howard's dusty file cabinets, and maybe he opened the drawers, and maybe he ended up doing pointless "research" on every bizarre thing his father thrived to create.

"Fucking Howerd . . . Suckin' up ta robots but not yur own son . . . Not even once . . . " Tony slurred miserably, taking another unusually huge gulp from his already mostly-downed beer. He'd lost count on how many he'd drunken already, but he was too intoxicated to care.

He didn't even care if anyone saw him like this . . . Except for one person.

Tony pushed himself off the couch, his legs, torso, and arms twirling like jelly as he clumsily made his way to the file cabinet once more. Being an oblivious drunk, Tony seriously considered moving the cabinets to the couch just for convenience.

He dug around almost frantically (and sloppily) for a certain file, determined to find it despite the sloshing of his brain.

Eventually he did find it, and he held it up with victory before opening it and studying the subject's pictures.

Just then, there was a knock on the glass door and then a quiet pitter patter into the room.

Tony gasped as he turned around, immediately delighted to see who it was. "Steve!"

The poor man nearly fell on his face running up to the captain, flailing the file around in his arms before colliding with the blond and kissing him happily. Steve sunk into the lip lock immediately, but he pulled away after another second. "You're drunk, aren't you." He said firmly. It wasn't a question like he intended it to be.

Tony could see the concern flood Steve's face and that made him grin, half because he didn't know what he was doing, and half because Steve worrying about him always made him feel warm inside.

"I had a _few_ drinks while looking through some files, but I'm all gud, bubby! Now gimme a li'l smooch," Tony leaned in again, throwing his arms around Steve's neck, but his boyfriend resisted. Tony stopped his gentle tug, but he pouted. "What's wrong hunny?"

Steve slowly took Tony's arms from around his neck, instead keeping one of his own arms around the brunette's waist before trudging over to the couch, where you could obviously see an overflow of beer bottles--both full and empty--and thrown files scattered on either the floor or on the small table to the side. "Let's see the chaos you've created."

Tony was now the one to resist. He didn't want Steve to see him so miserable like this, and as late as it is, he hoped to convince the blond to get some rest despite himself.

"Oh, god, Tony! What _is_ this?" Steve said, sitting Tony on the couch.

"Rrr . . . Research! Please don't wurry." Tony slurred helplessly, his grip on Steve's forearm falling as the captain stepped closer to the growing pile of files a foot away. The blond picked one up and quickly scanned through the contents, looking at Stark the second he finished. "You're doing it again."

"Doin' what again?" Tony rose a brow, opening up the file in his hands and continuing to read what he could make out.

"Envy drinking." Steve gathered the files and stacked them at the end of the couch, then put the bottles empty and full into a neat organization, out from Tony's reach. He then sat down next to the drunk genius, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing affectionately. "Tony, I know it sucks to have your father pay more attention to robots instead of you, but you can't keep doing this. There are better ways to cope--"

"Awwwh, look at you!" Tony leaned into Steve dramatically to show the captain pictures of him before and after the super soldier project.

In that second, as he looked back and forth between Tony and the vintage picture of him, Steve frantically asked himself, _"Does Tony envy me?"_

He choked, then stammered, "Uh--Tony--"

"Look at how cute ya are, Captun!" Tony pointed to the picture of Steve before the serum. "If it wasn't for this project, I'd be taller than ya!" He remarked with a childish giggle.

Steve awkwardly chuckled, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Tony . . . you don't . . . envy me, do you? For being close to your father?"

And then everything went silent. Tony looked at Steve seriously, although his drunkenness was still heavily apparent.

"Never, Steve. Never you." He replied as solidly as he could through his slurred tongue. "I love you, and I know you love me, so why bother being toxic with something as butiful as being in a relationship with you when there are other things out there to be mopey about?"

Steve's face heated, but he smiled gratefully.

"My father was close to you, sure," Tony continued, leaning back as he felt drowsiness kick in, "and, yes, for a time I did envy you . . . but now that I think about it . . . I understand why he talked to you way more. You're just . . . a very captivating man."

If possible, Steve's smile grew, destroying all the darkness in the world. "Come on ya sap, let's get some rest." He pulled Tony up by his arms. "We'll clean this up tomorrow."

"Aye-aye, Captun!"


	22. Care

Steve never liked people worrying about him. He'd do things without help; he'd complete errands without any assist; he'd sulk without a shoulder to cry on. Everything he did was by himself, and it was mostly because his Rogers pride was too big to swallow.

He wasn't the kind of guy to go out of his way and ask anyone to give him a hand because he took his independence _that_ seriously. He didn't want to burden anyone with things that were going on where he was the center of attention, even though by doing that he unknowingly made people more concerned.

But ever since he met Tony Stark, the captain realized he'd be nagged at forever. Not that anyone would catch him complaining though.

He didn't know when he came to this conclusion, but there is one instance which Steve would never forget.

On one loud night, Steve was in his room, hands in his hair, elbows to his knees, and his face distorted with distress. The past was catching up to him then, and the vintage relics that filled his room didn't help his case. But, even though it was traumatic, it was normal. It was normal for him to suffer alone at times like this. He curled into himself like it was autopilot, panicking silently so people wouldn't know what was going on. He had admitted months back to the team that he had post-traumatic stress, but hadn't gone in depth with it, meaning he didn't tell them about the episodes he had, nor how frequent they were. He didn't want to burden them with his struggles.

He had suspected, however, that the gang already knew he had these lonesome moments, toasting to his own demons and the memories that came with. But with Steve never coming out during these times and everyone being respectful, they never had a real glimpse of this darker, more vulnerable side of their captain.

Except for Tony Stark.

Steve had heard his bedroom door click just as the memories were becoming too much to bear. Actually, when the door opened, Steve couldn't imagine anything more horrifying than what he was experiencing. He felt the vibrations of countless explosions shake his weight; he could see the bullets zooming passed to hit their targets; he could feel the raging confidence as soldiers took their ride-or-die and hollered for a cause they believed in.

It was so real. So vivid. But then Tony Stark walked in, and everything silenced.

Steve looked up, face pale and mentality shaken. Tony had snacks in his arm, some ready to fall, as he said, "Hey, Steve. Brought you some snacks since you haven't been out for a few hours." He was looking down as he talked, but the second he looked up the brunette's face hardened with concern. He rushed to Steve and dropped the snacks down in a pile on the floor, kneeling before him and grabbing his hand. "What's wrong?" He asked solidly, squeezing his hand a tad.

The question bothered Steve a lot. This relationship with Stark was still new at that point, so he was still getting used to opening up to him. So, in old Steve fashion, he replied with, "Nothing."

But Tony wasn't having it.

"Don't shit me Rogers, what's _wrong?_ " He repeated. When Steve looked down to meet his eye, his words were stuck in his throat. The utter warmth, fondness, and _care_ in Tony's eyes was breathtaking. It was so mesmerizing, powerful, extravagant . . . Steve would've said "I love you" right there, no matter how early it was into their relationship.

Maybe _this_ was the moment Steve knew how good it felt to be cared for, to have someone to depend on and _love_. It was new, and it was beautiful. It was like Stark knew him through thick and thin already, and to be honest with you? It was relieving.

So, in a newer Steve fashion, he replied with, "Haunting memories are biting at me."

Tony smiled the tiniest bit and got up to sit next to Steve on his bed. "Thank you for telling me. Now, what's happening in those memories?"

And Steve told him. He told him everything, not leaving even the littlest detail out as the brunette fed him chocolate so he could have a bit of comfort food. Through it all, Tony never said a thing. He just listened, and fed, and listened, and fed, and fed some more, and then listened again. And by the end of it, Steve felt better than he ever had before.

"Thank you. For listening to me, I mean." Steve finished, a little flushed at the realization that he could talk so much in one sitting.

Tony shook his head. "Don't thank me. I'm just doing what a boyfriend has to do and care for you. I hope that when this happens again, you'll reach out to me."

Steve smiled softly. "Of course. You do the same, okay boyfriend?"

Tony snorted. "Okay, boyfriend."


	23. Arrest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FT. COP STEVE AND CRIMINAL TONY WOOHOO!

Okay, maybe hooking up with an officer that’s on your case isn't ideal, Tony realizes as he sips nervously from a martini glass. Right now he's surrounded by friends that work under the same criminal business as him, blaring music acting as a fuel for this chaotic night. It's actually a baby shower for Natasha Romanoff, a Russian spy, and her fiancé Clint Barton, who's sort of her hawk eye when it comes to scouting policemen or any law enforcement figure. There’s also Tony's CEO and partner-in-crime Pepper Potts, a woman he once had something beautiful with, and Peter Parker, a boy who's life was turned so upside down that he accepted his fate and started to rob places as a living.

There are many other patrons around, Tony's sure, but he could only distract himself for so long before going back to thinking of what he's done just two nights prior.

It was innocent at first, he swears, but then it just . . . got a lot more intense.

Okay, listen, he was out that night, looking to get drunk with Rhodey and have an overall good time, but then something--some _one_ , I mean--caught his attention and he couldn't resist.

He had slid into the same booth as that eye-catching man and did as much of a suggestive pose as he could, but, instead of being greeted with a smirk back and some flirty comment, he got a surprised, shaken stare, as if the man was seeing ghosts.

“Uh, honey, what's wrong?” Tony asked, sitting straighter.

“You're Tony Stark.” He said.

“Uh--haha,” Tony sat up completely now. “No, I think you're mistaking me for--”

“Don't bullshit me, I'm on your case!” The man suddenly snapped.

Tony took a full stop, his face no longer painted with interest and instead with despair and panic. Shit. And better yet, he took the blondie's word into account and froze when he realized “on your case” meant _“on your case”_ , which _also_ meant this dude was a _cop!_

Tony quickly stood, and so did the blond. “Actually, I know Tony Stark. I'll go get him for you!” The criminal said, then he bolted right out that door. The second the breeze hit him was the second all sounds turned off except for his frantic breaths as he condemned his legs to move faster than a cheetah's.

He jumped over fences, fallen trash cans, even a few car hoods, but every time he looked back he still saw that cop just a few feet behind him. He used crowds as his disguise, hunching over and running in that position as to not be seen. He then took a sharp turn into an alley, trying to keep his breathing shallow despite the burning of his lungs and the soreness of his throat.

He scanned his surroundings. Nowhere else to go but the way he came in, and he wasn't going to take that chance. He hoped that guy would run right passed him and never be seen again, but, low and behold, this wasn't a cartoon show and that cop caught him trying to sink into the shadows almost immediately.

“Tony Stark! Stop right there!” The blond said firmly. To be honest with you, despite his situation, Tony found that serious, growling tone very attractive, and he couldn't help the silent plea for him to continue talking.

“Put your hands up!” The cop demanded, and Tony did so. The blond approached him cautiously, almost making it to grabbing distance before Tony, a dumbass, made a break for it. Needless to say . . . he didn't succeed in his escape.

Instead, he was slammed into a wall, pushed into the brick by firm fists balling his dress shirt.

When the two met eyes, Tony grinned as an attempt to hold back pained winces thanks to the aching in his back. “So,” he managed to wheeze, “what's your name?”

The man didn't answer, instead pulling out a random cord and turning Tony around, now slamming his chest into the wall, which the brunette didn't enjoy either. He felt his wrists being tied and nimble fingers brushing against his knuckles, which he secretly craved more of. “You're under arrest.” Is all that came out of the blond's mouth.

“Okay, but,” Tony turned around, struggling slightly, “maybe kiss me before you shove me into your car? It's the least you can do for li'l old me.”

For a moment, the man seemed to actually be considering the suggestion, looking into Tony's eyes, then to his lips, then into his eyes again. He shook his head though, which was a shame, then started pulling Tony back to the bar, where his car was parked in front of.

As the blond opened the back of his car door and put Tony inside, the damned criminal couldn't help but ask again, “Really, can you just kiss me? You're incredibly attractive and my lips are incredibly soft. What's the harm?”

The officer rolled his eyes and pinched his nasal bridge with a sigh. “You're really going to flirt with a cop after he's arrested you?”

“I don't hear you complaining.” Tony commented, smugness glinting in his eyes. He leaned in closer, as if challenging the man to do it. “You can kiss me,” Tony offered, “or you can give me your name.” A tension-rising pause. “Or you can give me both. I can't wait to talk to you endlessly from within my cell, officer. You'd be welcome anytime--”

And that was it. He was silenced by a hungry kiss. When the officer pulled away, he mumbled, “It's Steve.” Then he shut the door and went into the driver's seat, roaring the engine and driving off.

Tony was surprised and satisfied, licking his lips to savor the taste of Steve's lips a little longer. “Well, Steve,” he hummed, “You're awfully bad at tying people up. Was it because of eagerness, I wonder?” Tony mused, jumping from his seat and using his newly untied hands to grab Steve's face to kiss him more. Steve made a sharp stop, pushing Tony away before quickly parking in an alley.

Was that an extremely dangerous act? Yes, it was. Was it incredibly dumb? Yes, it was. But did Tony care? No, he didn't. He craved danger as much as he craved Steve's heat.

He watched Steve get out of the driver's seat and join him in the back. “You wanna get us killed?” He asked sharply, his intimidating glare doing nothing to simmer Tony's thirst. “A little death never hurt nobody.” He replied.

Then his lips were on Steve's again, and Steve was quick to give in. The brunette didn't know if this guy was naive or he just didn't care about his reputation, but _man_ was he making a mistake, kissing a criminal he should've brought to the police station. Not that Tony really cared. Sex was much better than prison, but that's just his opinion.

It didn't take long until Steve was on top of him, pulling at his lapels urgently as a sloppy attempt to strip him naked.

And then the night went on from there. Needy breaths and clawing hands all mixed with the soft moaning of each other's names.

“Tony, you've had at least thirteen martinis by now. Is everything okay?” Tony looks up from the ground to see Pepper standing beside him, eyebrow perked with worry on her pretty face.

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly and then blurted, “I fucked a cop.”


	24. Prick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre-relationship

“Go off, prick.” Steve waves Tony off irritably. He doesn't have time for arguments right now, not with the S.H.I.E.L.D. side tasks he has piling up on his to-do's that he has yet to complete.

He can't see it, but he can feel Tony's narrowed eyes seering into his back, focusing in on every bit of him and burning him up.

“Fuck you too, Rogers.” Is the ending of their discussion, then some shuffling and a door carelessly slamming shut.

Steve looks up from the documents under his arms and massages his right temple, letting a soft sigh loose as he tries to drown in the breathtaking view of Manhattan. Maybe I should've stayed quiet instead, he thinks regretfully. In truth, Steve never saw Tony as a prick--in fact, he saw him as a very capable man. Egotistical and agonizingly sarcastic, sure, but capable. Capable of standing up for himself, capable of being who he is; Steve's never seen a billionaire so _not_ corrupted by his own power, never seen a man with such power like Tony Stark keep himself up so gracefully.

Maybe this was just childish admiration, that Tony Stark really was a prick but he just had mediocre qualities. But maybe it wasn't just admiration. Maybe it was genuine affection and caring that pulled Steve to Tony and vice versa. The saying goes that a man bullies a person he secretly values and loves, but this can't possibly be counted as bullying, right? It’s just their usual arguments. Nothing too heated, nothing too calm. Just--casual banter. Casual banter is what it is. What _this_ is, between him and Stark. Right?

Or maybe not. Maybe Steve says Tony's a prick because he genuinely likes him and he's so inexperienced with longing and loving feelings that all he can do is express himself like a teenage boy.

And maybe . . . Tony is doing the same thing.

Steve sucks his teeth, dropping his pen and holding his face up against the palms of his hands. Under his breath, he mutters, “What a prick . . . “


	25. Machine

Very early on in his life, Tony Stark was taught to be this emotionless, punctual and calculated individual, expected to do this and that all at once, satisfy everyone's needs despite his own protests, and keep everyone in check, aiding them when they needed it. Some commented on how similar he was to a machine, jokingly labeling him the human counterpart of all humanoid robots.

Tony didn't really care for the name and, as time passed by, he accepted the title and came into his own, letting that be the part of him that controlled his emotions, as it was meant to do.

He never let his true self show, never let anything slip except anger (which was the hardest emotion to contain, he found), so he wasn't exactly on the neatest terms with everyone he came by. He was compliant and easy going, sure, but his smart-talk always managed to tick off everyone that spoke to him.

And that's just how he was. 

Until Steve Rogers.

One day he saw the man and immediately his hardened facade was snatched away, the only things present on his face being _raw emotion_ , passionate and burning. He didn't know if that was a blessing or a curse, because now he could be who he was and, although that should be taken as a good thing, Tony's true self consisted of short temper and bitterness--a pessimistic mindset bled into him thanks to his father forcing him into the faceless coward he always was-- _up until Steve Rogers_.

Tony admired Steve, he cared for Steve, he _loved_ Steve--and everyone knew but himself.

Every one-on-one interaction ended with awkward silences; every party was wrapped up with knowing stares being shot to him and the captain from the other Avengers; everything Tony did with or for Steve, everyone saw right through. Everyone, except himself.

It was only when Steve said “I can't take your shit anymore, Stark,” and kissed him that Tony realized he was in love. In love with Steve Rogers.

Like an awkward machine, he had melted into the kiss and brought his hand into Steve's hair, hesitantly carding through it as if he hadn't done this before. As if this was all a foreign experience that Tony's never felt or witnessed. As if Tony was a newly born machine still figuring out its functions.

Eventually, he pulled away from Steve, bliss covering his eyes as he tried to process what had just happened.

“Tony, just tell me, _please_ ,” Steve begged softly, moving his gaze from the billionaire’s eyes to his lips in a hasty, almost desperate pattern, “do you like me?”

And as if on autopilot, Tony thought, ‘No. No, I don't like you. I _love_ you, Steve Rogers. I love you so much so continue kissing me until my breath is no more.’ But he never said that out loud. He never found it in himself to do so. Not with the machiney side of him still existent and nagging.

After a long while, he finally whispered, “Yes,” and was drowned in kisses all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ew this is rushed and ugly because it's summer where i am and i'm so close to melting from this heat
> 
> please take this love-sick tony and accept my apology and i swear i'll do better the next chapter


	26. Lethal

If Tony Stark's smile wasn't lethal, then Captain America didn't know what was.

It’s just--that _grin_. That grin that took everyone's breath away, _especially_ Steve's. What was the captain to do? He was so hopelessly in love with Tony's entire being yet he kept it inside for so long.

All that he could do was tense and try not to panic every time Tony flashed his perfect teeth, then try to casually bring up conversation, making it as funny as possible as to keep the billionaire smiling. It was almost like that purity, that  _happiness_ on Stark's face was Steve's only life force.

Which was unfortunate because those flashes were a rare occurrence. Well, at least the genuine ones were.

Although often plastered and faked, Steve could still be swooned by those big ass grins despite the worry in his chest for what Tony was hiding underneath. Those smiles just had _so much effect_ on him. _Tony_ had so much effect on him.

It was a peaceful euphoria.

. . .  Until Tony looked at him and genuinely smiled the first time since the battle of New York.

That, _that_ exact moment was when Steve lost himself. It was like a dose of heroin, tasteful and chaotic. Addictive and toxic. So heavenly, yet so unruly.

That grin nearly tore Steve down completely.

Because _the_ Tony Stark, a man with a literal _heart of metal_ , genuinely smiled at him-- _him!_ \--since such a big, traumatic incident.

Tony's smiles were lethal. Lethal to everyone. Lethal to Steve Rogers. And that was that.


	27. Gaudy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- implied super family  
> \- horribly written (it's 4am ok and i'm dying)  
> \- please accept this trash

Tony Stark has two sides to him.

He has his mundane side, and then his gaudy side.

His gaudy side is the more used one, the persona he puts on when facing news reporters and fans. It's always a smile, a dramatic pose, or a witty comment just for the cameras. Just for the eyes of the entirety of New York. He plays it well--it's legit starting to become a part of him, his autopilot whenever under the sun--but the citizens know he's faking it all. They've tried to pry into him before--countless times, actually--but he wouldn't let anything slip. Not about the things that didn't require the sharing. He'd only continue smiling for the camera and signing on posters with his face photoshopped onto a tye-dye background.

And contrary to what people believe, Tony is probably one of the most private Avengers. Of course, as he'd already been famous before Iron Man (what with Stark Industries weaponry and all) people were tailing him from the beginning. They wanted to know every bit of him and spouted things they thought was true just because they saw it once in their lifetimes. They'd say he was egotistical--which was true, but he was also humble (sometimes)--and that he dated his CEO head, Pepper Potts--also true, but people still thought they were something even now, despite the unknown fact they broke it off almost seven years ago. Can you believe some people rumored Tony and her were actually married just because there was that one time when Tony begged her to match Iron Man rings with him? On their middle fingers? On their right hands? To poke fun at himself for all the haters?

It was bizarre, to say the least. But Tony didn't care. He hasn't cared since this obsession started, only acknowledging them when they were brought up at conventions and laughing about them behind the microphone to show how ridiculous the accusations were.

But despite it all, Tony was tired. Tired of everything. Sometimes he wished he was just a farmer living with his son and husband, who managed to slip under the radar of the media for the past four years and counting (despite their popularity as well).

But it's whatever. At least he has them in this life now, all in the comfort of privacy.


	28. Smell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tony chapters have been crap lately i'm not doing my husband justice :(  
> have a cute steve chapter as an apology for my shittiness

To Steve, smell didn't mean much. Sure, it was nice to classify things from scent alone--such as a beautiful dinner or pleasing perfume--but to Steve, smell didn't mean all that much unless his nose was capable of detecting illegals like police dogs could do.

But when Tony Stark started sleeping with him, that statement completely changed.

No, they weren't “sleeping together”, they were  _sleeping together_. As in, literal context. Ever since their relationship became official, Tony's been giving himself permission to lay beside Steve (and Steve never complained) every night--if he wasn't tinkering with his suits down in the lab, that is.

Sleeping beside Tony, let alone spooning him and him spooning you, was heaven in itself, but--wow . . . Tony's scent? It was so Tony that Steve started calling it the “Tony Smell” in his head.

Every night when Tony was drowsy from restless naps in his lab, he'd trudge all the way up the bedroom floor and into Steve's pristinely chaotic room, right to his bed and then right next to him under the sheets.

Steve never said anything. He just welcomed him with a smile and opened his arms for Tony to cuddle into him--or when  _he_  wanted to be spooned that night, he'd keep the smile and then turn his back to the brunette, then he'd be encased by those strong arms drenched in love just for him. He'd study those fingers or play with that hair, noting the dried grease under the brunette's nails or on strands of coffee brown, the scent of the liquid vague yet so recognizable, because this was  _Tony_.

He'd kiss that forehead or bring those knuckles to his lips, sniffing in silence his loving boyfriend's captivating smell whilst he slept behind or against him. It wasn't just the smell of grease that lingered, for your information (Steve wasn't a weirdo). There was always that lemony citrus smell in his hair too or that strong macho cologne sprayed onto his collarbone--and combined Steve would've laughed, had it been anyone else wearing such a pair. This was  _Tony's_  weird smell--it was  _Tony's_  very  _Tony_  smell. And to Steve it was home.


	29. Puzzling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre-relationship

Tony Stark was so far up his own ass that he never admitted it when he was puzzled.

To be completely honest with you, he was insecure about it. Not knowing of something, or not being able to figure something out under two minutes (at the _least_ ) really blew his brains out and left him feeling useless.

It's all applause to Howard, really. He made Tony work until he had no more bones to have crumble; until he had no more sweat to shed; until there was no more coffee to be drunken. It was a pain to the brunette both physically and mentally.

So when Captain America came aboard the Avengers team that damned fateful day, instantly being greeted with smiles from the whole team, the cocky billionaire held his breath and tried processing everything.

 _This_ was the man that his father compared him to day after day? This annoyingly, incredibly, _outrageously_ punctual and attractively determined soul? _This???_

Tony almost couldn't believe it.

Of _course_ his dad would've wanted Captain Perfect as his son. _Of course_. He was just so All-American Boy, you know? It's so _irritating_ and just--

Wait. Was Steve waving at him?

Tony's eyes squinted beneath the tinted lenses of his sunglasses.

Oh _god_ , he was!

Tony had nearly choked on his saliva but managed to wave back--very stiffly, might I add--before awkwardly making his way over to Bruce in the corner, staying as far from Steve as he could without actually revealing so.

“You okay?” Bruce asked the brunette, arms crossing with hidden amusement.

“Yeah. I'm just--” Tony took a quick glance back at Steve, who was trying to make light conversation with Thor, “I'm just puzzled.”

“Wow. Tony Stark? Puzzled?--” Bruce almost laughed.

“Yes!” Tony hissed. “Live it down, Green Goliath. I'm just--” Another glance to Steve, another point of dignity taken down. “Mr. Patriot confuses me. A lot.”

“Why?”

“He waved to me.”

Bruce almost stumbled back. Stark can't be serious, right? “Isn't that just common courtesy?” He asked, now just as puzzled. _Incredibly_ puzzled.

“No. I mean, yes--I mean--” A thoughtful, confusing pause. “I don't like it.”

“You don't like how he's being decent to everyone here like a normal human being should be?”

“See, that's the thing! He _isn't_ normal!”

“To be honest with you? He's the most normal person here. He's more normal than Hawkeye, who doesn't even have any distinctive powers other than his excellent point-blank archery, which, in it of itself, is just an ability from countless hours of perseverance. Not an actual ability or enhancement obtained from being a lab experiment or from overwhelming intellect.”

Tony huffed, defeated. He was done arguing.

It’s just--

Captain America was just so--Captain _Perfect_.

Maybe he wasn't as puzzling as Tony thought, thanks to Bruce's ramble on him, but the back of Tony's brain still itched. Itched with the obsessiveness of wanting to stop being puzzled. Puzzled by Steve Rogers.

“I'm going to talk to him.” Tony suddenly announced, pushing himself off the wall and marching with confidence all the way to the flag-dressed blond.

“Hey, I’m Tony Stark. And you?” He greeted rather bluntly, and if Steve was taken aback by it, he didn't let it show. He just took the man's hand and shook it politely. “I'm Steve Rogers.” He replied.

Tony pulled his hand back and nodded, letting silence take the lead. How nice of him, making things awkward between himself and his companion so quickly.

Steve was about to continue talking to Nat once the silence became too much, but Tony stopped him (rather quickly, too).

They made eye contact, more chaotic confusion building alongside tension. “You annoy me.” Tony said finally, moving a step back from the captain.

“Excuse me?” Steve asked.

“Oh, sorry. You're just . . . very puzzling. I hate being puzzled.” He then leaned in slightly, narrowing his eyes as he whispered, “Puzzles are annoying,”

Steve blinked once or twice. “I suppose they are, but--I'm less puzzling than Hawkeye, and Hawkeye--”

“I know. Which is why you're a puzzle. Who can be less _not_ puzzling than Hawkeye?”

Steve sighed. “Listen, Stark. If you want to not be puzzled anymore, I'm open for a talk. This is the first day where all of us are gathered together and I'm really not trying to meet any potential enemies.”

Tony thought for a moment. “Very well. Let's talk.” He sounded as if they were going to move to a more private area such as an office, but the brunette just stayed where he was, now just slumping against the conference table to feel more comfortable.

Steve looked at him, then around the room, then back to him as he asked, “Soooo . . . are you going to ask anythi--”

“Why did my father like you so much?”

“Your father?--”

“Howard. Why did Howard like you so much?” Tony tucked a hand into his dress pant pocket, jaw clenched as he anticipated an answer. Would he say, “Oh, because Howard saw me as a son,” or, “Oh, because Howard _claimed_ I was his son.”? Either one got Tony's stomach churning.

“I . . . don't know. Maybe because I was a successful test subject.” Steve shrugged, which only made Tony more confused. How could he _not_ know? “To be fair,” Steve continued, “I signed up for that experiment, but . . . It would've felt better if I wasn't looked at as a failure before I was even transformed.”

It went silent between the two momentarily, causing Steve to glance back at Tony with an eyebrow perked. Tony noticed and stood up straighter, pulling his hand from his pocket and clasping it on top of the other. “Oh. Uhm, sorry to hear that, captain.” He mumbled.

“Don't worry about it.” Steve said passively. “After all, that was . . . a long, _long_ time ago.” He side-smiled weakly.

Tony rolled his lips into his mouth awkwardly and nodded, now being the one to look away. What Steve just said . . . Tony could really relate to. Like, _really_ relate to. It bothered yet relieved him at the same time.

Captain was just a normal person.  _Flawed_.

The itch in the back of his neck disappeared, and Tony almost breathed out in relief.

“Nice to know you aren't as puzzling as you seem.” He stated after a while. He could hear Steve chuckle beside him. “Nice to know that you are.” Was the response. Through his peripherals, Tony noticed Steve leaning in the _slightest_ bit, adding in the gentlest of whispers, “Luckily, I like challenges.”

Tony bolted upright, ready to backhand Steve in the face for being so shameless--despite himself--but before he could the captain was already feet away, talking to Bruce.

Tony's cheeks flushed considerably. “All-American shameless prick of a bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow a semi decent tony chapter??? it's been ages!! to be fair though i did write this at 5am and i haven't gotten any sleep prior so i just know this'll be crappier when i wake up from my inevitable nap  
> but anyway there was a lot of hawkeye hate in here (or at least hawkeye shade being passed around) but i swear on my life that i love hawkeye more than i love myself. he's like my second favorite character in /general/--very close to tony (who is a.k.a. my BIGGEST stan ever in the world like god i love this man)  
> please enjoy this half-assed shot and stay tuned


	30. Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not good at angst so this'll prolly come off as rlly dry but pls enjoy my efforts (please)
> 
> oh and pre-relationship

God, did Steve hate the sea. He hated big bodies of water; he hated seeing the depth of the ocean when he was watching animal documentaries; sometimes, when he was at his worst, he even hated showering. What happened to him all those years ago, what with the plane and the departure and the undying determination to save innocents, still clung to him like clothes drenched in  _ ocean water _ .

So that was why Steve never talked about it. That, and he turned down every event held at the beach--or any event held near any body of water for that matter. No one knew why, and Steve would never give excuses either, which just made them more confused. Why would Steve not lie, but just hide the truth? All the of Avengers suspected it was because of the sea (they were actually ninety-five percent certain of it), but when they mentioned it to the captain he'd only change the subject like a sly bastard, making them doubt their assumptions and come up with more.

But one day, when he and Tony were watching an animal documentary with Clint and Nat (sort of like a double-date, or just a date with Steve and Tony third-wheeling), everything was confirmed and Steve’s phobia came into full view.

Normally, when he and the Avengers did this stuff--watching animal documentaries because, yes, superheroing without actually having to superhero  _ is _ boring--he'd make sure that the film didn't consist of screenings of the ocean, or at least the depth of it. But during this particular day, Steve was so tired because he overslept so he just waved it off and let things play out.

But, boy oh boy, when he saw that school of fish swimming around, he knew what was coming next.

He'd gotten up immediately and clumsily stepped over Clint and Nat, who were cuddling in front of Tony and him on the floor, trying to pay no mind to the television as he heard the swish-swoosh of ocean water behind him. He almost made it out the living room, _almost_ saved himself the trouble of a panic attack, but Tony just  _ had _ to talk.

“Steve! Hey,” Tony had called, turning around to see Steve practically trying to make a break for it down the hall. Clint quickly paused the documentary to see the problem, Natasha following, the blanket they were sharing sagging off their shoulders and falling over their entwined hands.

It was a distinct, sharp, “ _ fuck _ ” from Steve’s mouth that echoed through the now silent living room, almost instantly making everyone's heart swell with concern. It wasn't like Steve didn't curse often, but--the way he  _ said _ it? That was a foreign touch to the captain they've never seen before. And it was almost scary.

Steve turned around, posture straight and stiff as if he were lining up with the other soldiers back in his day. He strained his eyes to only focus on his friends, but the brightness of the T.V. screen called to him, and he couldn't keep put any longer.

The second he saw what Clint had paused on--the dark depth of the ocean, with a fish or two standing out with their colorful scales--he wanted to collapse.

But instead, he turned--and he  _ ran _ .

He ran as fast as he could, Tony's booming voice reaching him even with how far he'd come. His legs were already on the verge of giving up, wiggling like jelly beneath his upper weight, but he couldn't fall. He _couldn't_ because it was  _ dark _ and the darkness reminded him of the  _ sea _ and the sea made him  _ die _ and end up  _ here _ ,  _ in a life he wasn't supposed to have _ .

His now violently shaking arms slapped against the wall, disoriented hands trying to find a button for either the lights or for the elevator--either one he needed so he could  _ breathe _ .

He couldn't  _ see _ , couldn't  _ talk _ , couldn't find  _ relief _ in this hell of a home. He needed to swim. To  _ get out _ . But it was too late. He had already collapsed onto the floor, right in front of the elevator doors he tried so sloppily to look for.

_ Can't. Get. Up _ .

_Drowning_. _I'm_ **_drowning_**.

Just then, a disembodied british voice could be heard just a few yards or so away. Steve barely had the strength to look forward, his hands getting too tired too quickly and condemning his elbows to hold him up instead.

“J-Jar-Jarvis! Jarvis,  _ please-- _ ” He attempted to call the A.I., to  _ beg _ it to him so it can  _ help _ his poor soul, but before the voice could even speak, an actual figure appeared just a few feet away.

Steve hadn't known he'd been crying until his elbow touched the puddle of tears just beneath him, making him panic and shuffle back in a chaos you would've never even _imagined_. No, please--no water no tears no sweat no _nothing_. _Nothing!_

Dear _GOD_ , make everything _STOP!_

“Please!” Steve yelled to the figure. He couldn't stop the wailing cracking his voice, making him look more vulnerable if his wet face and puffy eyes weren't enough. “Please help me! Whoever you are . . .  _ please _ . . . “ His voice died out and he curled into himself, sobbing silently into his knees like it was his only outlet.

“Steve, oh god, Steve . . . “ A voice said softly. It sounded so familiar yet foreign.

 

He didn't want the help of this unknown being.

 

“Stay back!” Steve had suddenly shouted, scooting farther into the darkness of the hallway.

There was silence, and then there was light.

Steve flinched, balling up once more. His wailing had ceased, dying down to uncontrollable waterfalls pouring out his eyes instead.

“Steve? It's me, Tony.” Came that voice again after another filler of silence.

Tony. Who's _Tony?_

Tony . . . Tony . . . Tone . . . T-- . . . Tony!

“Oh, god, Tony please! Help me Tony, it's too cold! The water's  _ too cold _ !” Steve began wailing again, his sight failing him thanks to the tears blurring his surroundings.

“I will! I will, Steve. Come here.” Was Tony's reply.

The captain then felt hands under his arms, around his waist, pulling him from the corner of the hall and under the nearest light.

“You're safe, see? You're safe.” Tony's voice cooed into his hair, one hand now placed gently on the back of his neck, a finger or two snatching a feel of that smooth blond hair.

Steve's crying came to a stop almost five minutes later, the warmth of another person reassuring him that he was no longer down in the sea, no longer iced and diced. He refused to let go of Tony's tee, which he'd been holding so tight his knuckles were paling, afraid that if the feeling of someone else was gone from his fingertips, he’d be pulled back under the evil sea’s grasp.

“You're okay, Steve. You're home.” Tony's voice came again, making the blond's hitched breathing relax and his tense shoulders drop.

Steve only nodded, staring down the hallway that was now fully lit, thank god.

When the remaining tears had finally dried on Steve's face, he pulled apart from Tony. He then sniffed, sudden awkwardness spreading through him when he saw the condition of Tony's arc reactor tee. It was worn out and drenched with Steve's unmasked emotions.

“Tony, I--”

“There's no need. I just want an apology for keeping this phobia of yours from us.” Tony half-demanded, twisting his shirt so now the arc reactor print was now on his back.

Steve had untied his tongue, taking a moment to process Tony's words.

“I . . . “ he began after a bit, “I'm sorry. For not telling you about my fear, I mean. I never told anyone, actually. I didn't want . . . “

“You didn't want to burden other people with your troubles,” Tony finished, his face becoming soft with understanding.

“Y . . . Yeah.” Steve nodded again.

Tony breathed in, placing a hand on one of the captain's shoulders. “We're in this together, Steve. Your burden is all of ours. Hurting yourself is hurting all of us. We're not just here because we're forced to live together. We're  _ here _ because we  _ love _ you.  _ Care _ for you. You're a big part of this family, Steve. The head of this  _ team _ .”

Steve was almost speechless. “Th . . . Thank you.” He muttered.

And then it went silent. Tony didn't move his hand from Steve's shoulder, instead continuing to stare into his eyes with longing and hesitance.

But then . . . But then Tony gave Steve a chaste kiss to his nasal bridge.

It was more of a bump, honestly. Like it were accidental and he was really just trying to reposition himself so he could sit comfortably. But it wasn't that. Steve  _ knew _ it wasn't that. Something in his gut told him the brunette was aiming at _at least_ his cheek.

Tony had cleared his throat immediately . “Uhm. For luck. That was for luck. For . . . future panic attacks. Because, uhm. I know how those feel and they suck and . . . yeah. Yeah, just--” Tony finally stood, coughing once again. “Let's scold Clint and watch Barney the Dinosaur.” He finished with a passive sniff.

Steve blinked, trying to comprehend both the awkwardness and Tony's words. “Yeah. Yeah, let's.” He agreed absentmindedly.

Tony had nodded and turned from the blond, beginning his solo journey down the hall.

Steve didn't stay sitting for long, but he gave himself enough time to gently touch his nasal bridge and bring the essence of that kiss to his own lips, breathing against his fingertips as if he still needed to render it all.

That kiss.

So nothing, yet so  _ everything _ .

Steve had bathed in its feeling.

He got up quickly and cleared his throat, refusing to wipe his fingertips against his shirt, for he was afraid of losing the little bits left of Tony's lips against his skin.

Maybe the haunting call of the sea wouldn't leave him alone probably until he died, but his nasal bridge would now be his new favorite body part, and Tony would still be the most beautiful person in Steve Rogers's world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yuck this is bad too 🤢  
> srry my chapters haven't been getting better like I promised :(


	31. Flagrant

Everywhere Tony went, there was always that one person in the crowd of fans that would call him _flagrant_ , _offensive_ , a blatant liar and a _fraud_. It was always a normal occurrence--of course you'd have to expect that one snowflake in a puddle of water--but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

Tony knew too well how to keep his composure and continue smiling for everyone, but none of those camera-ready grins were protection enough to save him from the blows he'd receive.

It's not like he cared about his public appearance, but maybe just a little bit of him wanted everyone to be cool with him and just stay cool with him. He didn't do well when it came to conflict or confrontation to one of his faults that he'd spent so many nights feeling guilty over instead of sleeping.

And when Tony is having an overall bad day and he hears “Tony Stark is a lying bigot who should have died in Afghanistan!”, it's almost the breaking point. Almost.

He'd smile, put up a peace-sign, then tumble home, losing his breath and clutching his arc reactor as if contemplating to take it out.

Then he'd find Steve in the kitchen and immediately act like nothing was wrong.

He'd greet him with a kiss, watch what he was doing for a while, and then make an excuse to go to his lab so he could panic over it alone.

But _he_ knew that _Steve_ knew him all too well, if being together for four years was anything to go by.

He'd corrupt Tony's sad hour plan immediately from seeing his face alone, being able to just _tell_ that Tony's having the worst time ever.

Steve would stop what he’d been doing and fully face his boyfriend, head tilted down so the light above them couldn't make his face shine. Then he'd look _human_ , and he'd look like _home_.

So Tony would vent.

He'd hold back the tears for a while, then let maybe one or two slip. He’d rant on and on over the same thing, sometimes going off track because it was just so _important_ for Steve to know, because he _trusts_ him and _trusting_ him makes him feel _so great_ when he can have the help he needs from _someone he_ _trusts_.

His sad rambling would turn into angry fuming quickly. “Maybe they're right,” would turn into “They say that shit like it's _my_ fault I turned out this way! My fault, like all of these strange, bizarre catastrofucks was _ALL MY FAULT!_ ”

And Steve would just watch silently, witness his boyfriend pace and pace and scream and pace--and Tony would be internally grateful.

He didn't need Steve's supporting smiles or words that are only said to barely numb a blow that's already landed, and he _really_ didn't need to be distracted by a kiss or a hug that only felt so comforting.

He just needed someone to _listen_. And Steve did that.

And by the end of it, Tony would breathe in, then out, then aggressively wipe his face and clean his fogged sunglasses, staying put and looking at everything but Steve before quietly apologizing and sighing.

He'd walk back up to his boyfriend and promise he'd be the big spoon that night, then kiss the blond's cheek and help him with what he'd been doing before.

And Steve would smile at him and agree to all of it, making sure to keep him close just in case he boiled over once more.

Tony is flawed and imperfect, just like everyone else, but he'd never be willingly flagrant. Steve knows so. And if Steve knows so, _tells him so_ , then Tony knows so too.


	32. Pick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> civil war

Steve picks Bucky up from the ground, breathing heavily. He’s exhausted, hurt, and half-conscious. The blood continuously pouring from the side of his lip is barely a distraction anymore as it feels so regular already.

He turns to the suit of armor across from him, glaring at a familiar red and gold like it was such an uncommon, foreign combination. He subconsciously wonders if this man is the man he's known for the past four years. Maybe he is, and Steve is the one changing. After all, he is now a fugitive, something he'd never consider had Bucky not been in the picture.

“I'm sorry, Tony,” He manages a breath, shaky and muted, “but he's my friend.”

Not a second of silent shock or processing goes by until Tony says, oh so casually, “So was I.”

Steve didn't expect those words to take him aback as deeply as they did, but they had, and for a moment the fugitive has to take a moment to catch another breath.

No point in standing down, Rogers, he tells himself, you made your pick. Friend over frenemy.

That's just how it worked.

But that didn't mean it hurt any less for either man.


	33. Separate

Tony was gone in France for a business trip, much to his (and everyone else's) surprise. Wasn't it someone else who did that for him now, what with all his superheroing work going on? But, before he could even think about asking questions, Pepper was shoving him onto a plane with a week's worth of clothing packed, saying the needed tech (including at least two Iron Man suits) would be shipped and arriving around the same time he'd get there.

Tony's only spent one night alone in a frankly small bed so far and he's already missing the company of his husband. He’s already reminiscing on the nights where he cradled Steve’s head and hugged him close from behind like those were now a long abandoned memory. He liked playing Tetris on his phone while Steve's face was pressed into his side, muffling his snores that weren't that charming to be honest. He just misses Steve.

So, like a loving husband and all, Tony brings out his phone and gives Steve a call. If the man didn't respond, Tony would just send a quick “I miss you” text and call it a night.

But much to his relief, the blond picks up.

“Hey, honey,” Tony is the first to talk. “Hold on, let me put you on facetime.”

When that's sorted out, Tony is surprised to see Steve's saggy eyebags. Already exhausted?

“You look like you've been sleeping comfortably.” Tony comments sarcastically, letting a snicker slip.

“You don't look much better, babe.” Steve smiles tiredly. “What time is it for you?”

“Uh,” Tony swipes on his phone quickly, “five A.M.”

“Five?? Tony, get to bed.”

“Yeah, I miss you too.” Tony says softly, giving that signature smile that he knows can make Steve melt.

Steve shakes his head, but he's smiling fondly. “How's France?”

“Well, being that it's only the first day and I'm only here for business, it's pretty boring.” A thoughtful pause, then a lonely sigh. “I wish you were here.”

Steve nods. “I do, too.”

It goes silent, both men basking in the other's digital presence, until Tony gasps. “You know what?” He falls back onto his side, arm holding his head up as if he were doing an amateur seductive pose. Nice going, Tony. You're still fully clothed in your business suit.

“What?” Steve hums.

“When our third anniversary comes up, we should return here,” Tony's voice gets progressively more rough and deep, as if he were purring almost, “and have a three-part honeymoon.”

“ _Three-part_?” Steve chuckles lightly. “You're a horny bastard.”

“Don't tell me I'm not irresistible!” Tony feigns cockiness, earning another chortle from his beautiful man.

“You aren't.” Steve admits. “But you're so amazing that it's hard to tell.”

Tony grins, closing his eyes and letting his head fall into a pillow that didn't hold the scent of Steve.

“I can't wait to see you in a week.” He opens his eyes again to find Steve laying down too, his eyes also closed. “Me neither.” He whispers.

Tony feels his heart flutter. He rolls onto his back and opens up his messages. “Hold on Cap, let me send you a kiss emoji.”

“Is that how you'll kiss me while we're separated?”

“Precisely. What? You think I'll kiss my screen? That's like calling a body pillow your girlfriend. Depressing and weird.”

Steve gives a hearty laugh now. “You're ridiculous.”

Tony can hear the sound of Steve's phone vibrating as the message is sent.

“Thanks.” Steve smiles. “I'm heading to bed, okay? Don't play Tetris until seven A.M tonight. That's _our_ thing.”

“Well, more like my thing, you just snore into my side and occasionally try to take my phone away while you're half-conscious, but whatever.” Tony shrugs.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Good night. I love you.”

“Love you too, red white and blue.”

“Man, how'd you know I'm turned on by patriotic poetry?”

“My god, go to bed.”


End file.
